I Wanna Be Your :Expletive Deleted:
by Experimental
Summary: Kasanoda and Tetsuya rip off buddy movies when they steal a yakuza's hatchback and set off on a spur of the moment road trip to Ise, with unforeseen side effects. Crack will inevitably ensue.
1. Copyright infringement

I Wanna Be Your (Expletive Deleted)

—

It was pouring when Tetsuya returned to the Kasanoda residence. The rain had soaked his clothes and long hair in no time, a fact which Kasanoda Ritsu remarked on when he entered the room. "You're soaked."

"I know."

"You're dripping wet." He didn't actually look up when he said this. The TV set was on, playing some prime time variety show, but Kasanoda was preoccupied with something on the table he was hunched over.

"Don't worry," Tetsuya told him. He sat down with his back toward Kasanoda, shrugging off his sopping coat. "I won't catch a fever." But his heart wasn't really in it. Something else weighed on his mind.

As though reading it, the young master said, "Hey, you're back late. You didn't tell me you were going out."

"Oh yeah." Tetsuya tried to sound as nonchalant as he could, because he really didn't want to talk about it. "The guys conveniently forgot to inform me we were out of milk and eggs, so I had to make an emergency grocery run before tomorrow's breakfast."

Never mind that he hadn't brought any bags with him, or that the refrigerator was in fact well stocked. But if Tetsuya closed his eyes, he could still feel the blood on his hands, even though the rain water washed the rest of it off on his way over here. A drop of rain rolled off the tip of a lock of hair to splash against his cheek, and the impact shook him unusually hard.

Kasanoda didn't notice one way or another. He just said absently as the television audience laughed at something on the program, "That's awful nice of you. Let me know if you need reimbursement."

"Waka. . . ."

It just sort of slipped out, and Tetsuya wasn't sure how.

"I did a really bad thing."

He just couldn't hold it back any longer. He hadn't wanted to say it, but it had to come out, like an animal clawing at his throat.

It was the absolute truth, yet Kasanoda just hummed. Obviously he wasn't paying attention to anything other than what was on the table in front of him.

Between the sound of that and the television and the rain pouring outside, it was all quickly driving Tetsuya out of what few wits he had left. He had to find out what the young master was working on or he would go mad. "Whatcha got there, anyway? A new model kit? I didn't know you were into those."

Instead, Tetsuya looked over Kasanoda's shoulder to see an array of paper charms, straw dolls, and other suspicious-looking magical sundries. "What the—"

"It's just a few things a classmate gave me," Kasanoda said, and proceeded to bring his arms up over them like a mother hen shielding her chicks. "It's supposed to increase my chances."

"Chances of _what_?"

"Of Fujioka liking me."

"What, you mean like magic?" Tetsuya's gaze flitted from a love-love umbrella to a pair of chopsticks with "Kasanoda Ritsu" and "Fujioka Haruhi" written on each stick.

Seeing his disgusted look, Kasanoda uttered a tiny, "She said at least one of them was guaranteed to work."

"You mean to tell me you spent good money on this junk?"

Normally Tetsuya wouldn't be caught dead talking back to the young master like that. Normally he respected Kasanoda Ritsu too much to harbor anything but a patient admiration for him. But suddenly Tetsuya found himself slipping into that person he was before he ever came to the Kasanoda household—that impetuous person he was back when he was a Sendou. He wasn't really sure how exactly it came about, only that suddenly he wasn't sure which riled him more—that the young master had been so gullible, or that Tetsuya himself was actually jealous that Kasanoda had a crush on a male classmate. A cute one at that, who obviously didn't return these wasted sentiments.

Or maybe what angered him most was that all this had to come at a time when he already had very grave things to worry about.

"Give it up," he sighed. "You know that kid is too dense to be into you. I thought he said he considered you two good friends."

"That doesn't mean I have to give up hope."

If I do, thought Tetsuya, then so do you. It's only fair. "Give it here," he said, making a move for the straw doll.

Kasanoda went to grab it back. "Hey, careful with that! It's delicate."

"Oh, grow up, Waka!"

"Give it back, I said!"

"Spoiled brat!"

"Drowned rat!"

Push literally came to shove, and they ended up in a bit of a tussle, which Tetsuya lost. But neither really had the heart for fighting, and within moments they were both on their backs, each distracted by his own respective predicament as they lay staring up at the ceiling, breathing hard like after one of their can-kicking games. Despite his desperate circumstances—or maybe because of them—Tetsuya couldn't complain. He was shoulder to shoulder with the young master, breathing in the scent of him—unaware that Kasanoda was unwittingly doing the same thing, catching the subversive scent on Tetsuya's clothes of cigarettes and coffee even though he had long given up both.

It didn't matter that they'd ended up that way because of an argument. The noise from the television slowly drowned out their own respective thoughts until all they could really do was feel.

Tetsuya wished he could stay like that forever. He wished he could forget where he had just come from, just slip out of time altogether and spend the rest of his life in a single moment from which there could be no looking back with regret or worrying about the future. But he knew that wasn't the way the world worked.

As these things have a tendency to happen, that was when the ad came on.

"Let's run away," said Tetsuya.

"What?"

It must not have sounded like him, but the music was kind of getting to him.

"Just for a little while. Let's be impulsive, get away for a few days, take a trip. Just the two of us. We never do anything just the two of us. Even kick-the-can needs a whole bunch of people to be any fun."

The couple on the TV screen looked so happy, not a care in the world as they cruised in their car, walked on the beach, taking in the history, the atmosphere, the shrine and the ocean, all to some sappy Spitz number—

He wanted to be there. He wanted to be like that.

"Let's go to Ise."

It might as well have been a slogan.

"All your troubles get washed away at Ise," he said to Kasanoda's stunned silence, sounding like a commercial himself, courtesy of Tourism Ise. "I know it's trite but. . . . Well, we can get refreshed there, get our minds together—start over like a couple of clean slates."

He sat up, staring at the television that had moved on to some snack food—staring past the TV screen at that ideal Ise where he could be free from the world.

"Pray for things to turn out the way we want them."

"Like for Fujioka to return my feelings," Kasanoda said to the ceiling.

"Why are you still chasing that dream, when all you need is already right here?" Tetsuya mumbled, but the young master apparently didn't hear him.

Instead, he bolted upright.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I've got school. Not to mention, how are we supposed to get there?"

"We can take Ibe-san's old hatchback," Tetsuya said with a quickness that surprised even himself. "Ibe's to Ise—see it even rhymes. That means it's fate. Come on," he said, pushing Kasanoda's shoulder joshingly as the young master just stared at him. "Think of the fun we'll have. A road trip, Waka! We never get out of the house except to go to school or the supermarket—occasionally a hotel pool in the summer. This might be our only chance."

"This isn't like you at all, Tetsuya. First talking about stealing a car—"

"We're just going to borrow it for a couple of days. We'll be back before he even realizes it's missing."

"Now _you're_ starting to sound like a delinquent."

But even that bone-grazing accusation couldn't wipe the smile from Tetsuya's lips, now that it have been put there by the prospect of the open road ahead. "And you sound like a chicken, Waka."

"Better than a drowned rat," Kasanoda muttered.

"Spoiled brat," Tetsuya grinned.

"Drowned rat."

"Spoiled brat."

"Drowned rat!"

"Spoiled brat!"

"Spoiled ra—"

Kasanoda bit his tongue.

Tetsuya chuckled.

"Don't laugh, asshole." But the young master was blushing so furiously even a hand clamped firmly over his mouth could not stifle Tetsuya's laughter. "That's not fair. I messed up."

He grabbed Tetsuya in a headlock, and at first Tetsuya was too caught up in that queer fit of giggles he somehow couldn't stop, he failed to realize he was wrapped up in Kasanoda's arms and really should stop trying to free himself and just enjoy it. After all, wasn't this the best part of every round of kick-the-can? To say nothing of how bad he could have used a hug tonight, what with the pouring rain and the horror he had just come from, not even an hour ago.

Naturally, when that finally occurred to him it was too late, because by then Kasanoda was already making for the door.

Disappointed, Tetsuya fixed his rumpled shirt as he fought to catch his breath. "Where are you going?"

The young master's already flushed face lit up brighter with a smile.

"To get my things, of course. We're going to Ise, aren't we?"

_To be continue. . _


	2. Copious product placement

Fifteen minutes later, Kasanoda was back at Ibe's blue hatchback under the carport, his arms loaded with bags. "Okay, I've got a couple changes of clothes, and some food and drinks," he said, popping the hatch and loading up the back of the car.

He stared at the grocery bags full of snack foods and soda for a minute, counting on his fingers, before deciding, yep, that was enough carbohydrates to last them to Ise.

"And I dug out the New Year's money I've been saving. Oh yeah, and I packed some stuff for you, too, Tetsuya."

Tetsuya looked up from under the steering wheel and blinked. "Thanks."

"What are you doing anyway?"

Tetsuya turned back to the the wires in his hands. "Hot-wiring the car—"

"_Huh?_"

"Aw, don't be a goody two-shoes. It's perfectly safe. I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Okay, never mind wherever you learned to do that. Why not just grab the keys?"

Tetsuya contemplated that for a minute before shaking his head. "Too much effort."

And hot-wiring the thing was not, Kasanoda wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut. After all, this trip was going to be The Most Impulsive Thing he'd Ever Done, and that was even compared to crashing the host club during its regular hours of operation to confess to Haruhi. (With any luck, this venture would not involve nearly as much humiliation or postulations on his sexuality.)

Just as he was thinking that, the engine turned over with a whiny growl.

Tetsuya righted himself and brushed off his hands. "See? Easy as pie. Who's driving?"

"I thought you were."

"Well, I've still got my learner's permit. It's expired, but—"

"It's more than I got. I don't suppose mad _Wangan Midnight_ skills count."

"Then it's decided," Tetsuya said like there was nothing else they could do.

And Kasanoda figured there probably wasn't as he climbed into the passenger seat. They buckled their seatbelts in a hurry, grinning at each other as Tetsuya rested his hands on the steering wheel. "Ready, Waka?"

"As I'll ever be. I can taste it now—the sweet freedom of the open road—"

"Ise, here we come!"

"I'm gonna skip class."

"And I might get busted for stealing this car, and I don't care! What's gotten into us, Waka?"

"I don't know," Kasanoda said, feeling his heart racing inside his chest just like when he went to kick the can, or saw Haruhi smiling his way. Tetsuya was on the brink of giggling beside him, and that wasn't like him at all either. But it felt good.

It felt good like he couldn't describe—the kind of good he knew he should feel guilty for, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel regret or remorse. And ultimately, that was all that mattered.

"Make it so," he said, trying to keep a straight face as he gestured dramatically at the windshield, and that was what Tetsuya proceeded to attempt to do.

It was slow going pulling out of the drive and dodging the other cars belonging to his father's men lest they set off someone's alarm; plus Tetsuya hadn't been behind the wheel in a while—he reassured Kasanoda it would come back to him—so it really didn't feel half as dramatic a getaway as they'd envisioned. Plus, it was still raining cats and dogs, and the gravel made a slurpy sound under their tires—

"You drive like a grandma."

"Shut up, Waka. Er, _please_. I'm trying to concentrate—"

"Shit." Kasanoda looked frantically around himself. "I forgot my umbrella."

"Again? I swear, every time. . . ."

"I know, I know."

Tetsuya hit the brakes. "You wanna go back?"

The two looked back over their shoulders, out the hatchback window where the house stood only a short ways away with the living room windows still glowing invitingly. Tetsuya knew there was something he was forgetting—the young master's exclamation had sparked an ominous feeling, but he couldn't seem to grasp the reason behind it—but he shook that off.

They stood at the precipice of their journey at the very end of the drive, the open road just through the gates, with only one thing standing between them and the open road.

"Nah," Kasanoda said, turning back around. "We've gone too far."

They pulled out of the house's main gate without incident, and, freedom now within their grasp, Tetsuya pealed away from the curb—albeit with an uncomfortable lurch that nearly sent Kasanoda's forehead into the windshield.

He probably would not have noticed. He was too busy laughing and whooping as they sped down the residential streets, Tetsuya doing the same beside him as he fought to maintain control of the vehicle in the dark and the rain, ignoring stop signs left and right. The adrenaline was veritably pumping, a spirit of invincibility uniting them in camaraderie like the two partners in crime they had become, yet somehow they found their way to the highway without too many wrong turns and back-tracking.

And just in time, as they were just beginning to come off their high as they hit it. "We need some music," Kasanoda decided as he finally pried himself loose of the suicide handle above the window.

He turned on the radio. It was the news.

"_Authorities tonight are searching for an elephant on the run from the Ueno Zoo. No one is sure yet how it managed to escape, but witnesses are recorded as saying it was being ridden by a rather large man—_"

Tetsuya's mood mellowed suddenly. "Pick something pumpin', Waka," he said as he jerked the car back into the proper lane.

"Pumpin', pumpin'. . . ." Kasanoda rifled around in the glove compartment, finally landing on a CD that looked promising. "Huh. Ibe's 'Win and Awesome Mix'."

"Sounds promising."

No sooner had he put the CD in the stereo, however, than they were treated to the dulcet tones of Celine Dion, crooning the theme from _Titanic_. Neither of the car's occupants could come up with anything to say to this. Kasanoda could feel himself blushing in embarrassment for the car's absent owner. He glanced over at Tetsuya, who was gaping in disbelief as he exchanged glances with Kasanoda.

When their eyes met, the two laughed. "Oh my God," Tetsuya said, "Ibe-san's a total poser!"

Kasanoda was laughing into his fist too hard to say he agreed. Say, to the point of tears. It was just that it was near impossible to picture the hard-bitten, scarred and tattooed man as being a fan of easy-listening pop hits. "Don't say that to his face," he finally managed, "unless you want to lose a pinky."

"I know, right?"

That number was followed up by a Mariah Carey ballad, then some Teresa Teng and Seiko Matsuda; and before they knew it—somewhere around the bridge in the Wilson Phillips number—the two had actually started singing along. And they were really getting into it.

"Someday somebody's gonna make you wanna turn around and say good-bye," Kasanoda sang, out of tune.

"Say good-bye," Tetsuya echoed.

"'Til then, baby, are you gonna let them hold you down and make you cry. Don't you kno-ow—don't you know—"

"Know—"

"It could change—"

"Change—"

"It could go your way—"

"If you ho-old on for one more day," they both belted at the tops of their lungs, Kasanoda into his imaginary mic. "If you ho-o-old o-o-on. . . ."

It was as they were about halfway through the second refrain of Misora Hibari's "Like the Flow of the River" that Kasanoda said suddenly, "Hey. Pull over."

"What? On the side of the highway? Why?"

"'Cause here's one river that really needs to flow."

"Huh?"

Kasanoda blushed. "I need to take a leak."

Tetsuya sighed. They were making such good time. "Couldn't you have done that before we left?"

"I didn't need to go then."

"Hold on. Let me find a rest stop—"

"No time! Just get off—_here!_"

He was going to say at the next exit, but they were already at the next exit before he had time to get all the words out. So, with not a moment to lose, Kasanoda grabbed the wheel himself and sent them swerving across three lanes of traffic in that direction, other vehicles honking their horns behind them as they barely made it out in one piece.

They had left the big city behind them about an hour ago, and nothing looked familiar as they exited the highway. Tetsuya had his eyes peeled for a service station or restaurant, but Kasanoda was squirming so much he ended up getting out on the side of the road and peeing into what was probably someone's field. They got back on the road easily enough, so they didn't start suspecting anything was amiss until they were many kilometers along and still hadn't seen any signs mentioning Ise, let alone any other major city along their route. To make matters worse, the road had trickled down to a mere two lanes.

"Are you sure this is the highway?" said Kasanoda.

"It's okay, I've got everything covered." Tetsuya gestured out the windshield. "Ise's southwest of home, so we just start heading south and west of there— What! Seriously, Waka, what?"

Kasanoda's rolling and groaning in the passenger seat like he had a baby alien growing in his stomach effectively cut him off. "I can't believe this! You didn't . . . You might have gotten us completely lost in the middle of nowhere for all you know—"

Tetsuya slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road. Not that it mattered much: they were the only ones on it.

"Well, you had the map! I thought your not giving me directions meant I was on the right track."

"That's it!" In two heartbeats, Kasanoda had thrown the passenger side door open, leaving Tetsuya to gape as he walked around the front of the car and stood, hands on hips, at the driver door. "Get out. I'm driving."

"But you don't even know _how_ to drive."

"I've done it lots of times in the arcade."

"Er, no. No thank you. I have no wish to get killed tonight. Look! There's a convenience store!" And thankfully, when Tetsuya pointed in that direction, there actually was one. "Maybe they can give us directions back to the highway from here."

They left the car running in the parking lot, seeing as Tetsuya didn't have any particular desire to get under the steering wheel again and, in any case, there did not seem to be another soul in sight.

They entered the establishment to the whoosh of sliding doors, an automated chime that said "Welcome!" in a high, robotic voice, and the strange strains of "Lobelia-a-a—"

"Lobelia-a-a—"

"Lobelia-a-a!"

The overblown singing belonged to three girls in private high school uniform, who were posing dramatically in the aisles among the snack food.

The two boys turned to the proprietress instead, who winced pathetically.

"Um, yeah," said Kasanoda. "We just stopped by to see—"

"If you could eat just one?" said the shortest of the three girls, holding a bag of chips up before her as she twirled in place like it was a beloved puppy.

"Er, no. We just need—"

"To satisfy a really big hunger?" said the next, ready to toss a candy bar their way like a throwing star.

It was all beginning to push Kasanoda's buttons. "No. I—"

"Bet anytime is Suntory time?"

The last came with a sultry glance from the tallest of the three, a rather mannish young woman. That was when Kasanoda snapped. "We need some goddamn directions to Ise!" he growled, putting on the scary face. Tetsuya backed slowly away. "You guys got a friggin' problem with that?"

The girls, however, looked more disappointed than scared. They dropped their snack foods, wind blown out of their sails.

"Well, there's no need to get pissy about it."

"Jeez, sounds like someone's on the rag."

Kasanoda blushed up to his hairline. Were girls even allowed to say things like that? Meanwhile, Tetsuya was trying his best to dismantle the situation before it went nuclear. "Just ignore them, Waka. The proprietress can probably give us directions back to the freeway—"

"Oh? What is this?"

The two turned to stone as the tomboyish girl slunk from behind them (when she had gotten back there, neither could say) to slip an arm heartily around each of their shoulders. "Dost my eyes deceive me, or do I detect the makings of a buddy picture?"

"Wai—_huh?_" Kasanoda bellowed.

But the Lobelia girls were undaunted. "Two good—well, er, _one_ good-looking young man an dhis best friend—" (Kasanoda resented that) "—down on their luck—"

"Hitting the open road with high hopes for a reversal of fortunes—"

"Let me guess," the tomboy said so close they could feel her flowery breath on their ears. "The one with the ponytail's the catcher."

"_What?_" This time it was Tetsuya's turn to freak out. "Of all the— No! I—I can't believe thi— That is _it_, I've had it up to _here_—"

He turned to storm out, but Kasanoda caught the collar of his jacket. "But, Ise—"

The girls just laughed. "Take a right out of the parking lot, go down two kilometers and take a left. Follow it back to the exchange—"

"And good luck, lover boys!"

The tomboy blew them a kiss, and the two stalked out of the establishment, ears burning, to the ringing refrain of "Lobelia-a-a!"

"What the hell was that?" Tetsuya muttered under his breath as the door closed behind them. "How come _I_ have to be the catcher?"

"Don't let those drama dykes get to you," said Kasanoda.

Completely ignoring the point, in Tetsuya's opinion, but the young master's tone of voice made him turn. "What are you so chipper about?"

But Kasanoda just grinned at him and dashed toward the car they had left running.

"No. . . ." Tetsuya ran to catch up with him, but he was too late. Grinning like the cat that kicked the can, Kasanoda was already in the driver's seat. "Waka!" Tetsuya pleaded, hanging onto the open driver's side door. "Let me in there!"

"No way. You snooze, you lose."

"What are you, five? You said you didn't know how to drive!"

Kasanoda, who was already inching the car forward in first gear, let go of the wheel to shrug.

"Get out!"

"Get in the car."

Tetsuya growled.

"I could do this all day," Kasanoda said. "But I thought you wanted to go to Ise."

Seeing as he wasn't going to win this battle—and he was, after all, arguing with his boss's son—Tetsuya sighed, and Kasanoda stopped long enough to let his traveling companion climb in the passenger seat.

"All right, fine," said Tetsuya, "but if you get us killed, I'll never forgive you."

That was all the blessing Kasanoda needed. He gunned it out of the parking lot, then nearly lurched the car right off its axles when he let his foot off the gas to turn onto the road, Tetsuya yelling as the hatchback limped away, "_Drive_, Waka! Put it in _drive_!"


	3. Let's do the time warp again

It was a bumpy, swervy ride back to the highway.

Or at least it would have been, if they had been able to in fact find the highway. The time was well past three in the morning, and nothing but dark, wet countryside could be seen on either side. They had yet to even see another vehicle since the foray into the convenience store. Yet they continued to hold out hope until the light came on on the dashboard.

Kasanoda saw it, panicked, and swerved again.

"What's that? Something just came on. Is there a problem?"

Tetsuya blinked eyes that were starting to go bleary on him and glanced at the dash. "It's just the refill light, is all. Waka, we need to stop at the next gas station and fill up."

Minutes passed. Then a half hour, and it began to look like such was much easier said than done.

"We've got to be coming up to one any minute—"

"There's nothing out here, Tetsuya! Nothing! Not a damn thing!"

"Okay, calm down. We can't be _that_ far from civilization. Hey, we're still on pavement."

So Tetsuya said, but he was neglecting the fact that it had been a while since the two had even spotted another road sign.

"I don't get it," said Kasanoda. "We must have hit the highway at one point. Right? I followed those girls' directions precisely."

"Then maybe there was something wrong with their directions," Tetsuya sighed.

It must have been the sigh that did it. Kasanoda glanced over at him, then back at the road, then back at Tetsuya again, enough for him to ask the young master, "What? You have something to say?"

"Nothing," Kasanoda mumbled. Then, after a short while, "It's just that you don't have to take that passive aggressive tone of voice—"

"What are you talking about?"

"If you're mad 'cause you think I got us lost, why don't you just say so? I don't care."

"I'm not blaming you for getting us lost, Waka—"

"Ah! Then you _do_ think it's my fault!"

"The hell? Why would I say—" Tetsuya cut himself off. All right, if he were honest—and allowed himself to truly ponder the gravity of their situation—he was a little miffed that their big getaway had ended up like this; and if he examined how they had come to be here, it was the young master who had driven them into the middle-of-nowhere in which they now found themselves. But blame. . . . "You know what? I'm not going to play this game. I don't care if you are the one who drove us out here, I'm not going to let it ruin our trip."

That, as luck would have it, was when their luck ran out. The car began to slow on its own, despite all of Kasanoda's persistence with the gas pedal. Then it rolled to a stop in the middle of the road.

"Ah. It stopped," he remarked.

Tetsuya sighed, opened his door, and got out of the car.

"Well, there's nothing else we can do," he said to the young master's curious stare. "We should have filled up around the time you made us get off so you could use the little boys' room, but there's no helping it. Now we've got to go looking for a service station."

"What? You mean, like, on foot?"

"Or we could wait and see if someone comes along and try to flag them down."

Kasanoda looked down one side of the road that stretched on into the inky night as he got out to stretch his limbs, then he looked down the other. Even a streetlamp would have been welcomed whole-heartedly by this pair. "We won't get anywhere if we can't even see where we're going."

Tetsuya opened the hatchback.

"We can stick it out here until dawn and worry about getting help in the morning."

"Right. You take first watch, I'm gonna catch some Z's."

"Waka. . . ."

"What? Driving's hard work!"

But Tetsuya sighed, and Kasanoda relented, "Okay, okay. . . ."

They sat on the edge of the trunk with their legs hanging over the bumper. Kasanoda unfolded blankets while Tetsuya rooted around in the grocery bags for something worth eating.

"Anything in here contain protein?" he grumbled.

Kasanoda scowled. "Well, excuse me, Mr Gourmet. I thought you liked . . ." He grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on. "Dry instant ramen and lukewarm milk tea. . . ." All right. Score one for Tetsuya. . . .

The other just laughed, however. "It's okay, Waka, really. I don't mind it tepid. Besides, it's the thought that counts. Right?" And he nudged Kasanoda with his shoulder to show he harbored no hard feelings.

He didn't see how the young master blushed at that, because Kasanoda hid it behind a package of snowballs he was tearing open with his teeth.

They ate in silence, what was left of the rain pattering on the hatchback door above them. And eventually—neither could really say when—both unwittingly drifted off.

It didn't even occur to Tetsuya that he had fallen asleep until he felt something solid hit his shoulder.

He blinked groggily, only to find that something was Kasanoda's head. Immediately, he resisted the instinct to stretch, and turned his own head as gently as he could. The young master's mouth had fallen open, and at the angle he was resting at, it probably wouldn't be long before he started drooling, but Tetsuya didn't care. The sleeping Kasanoda Ritsu might not have made for a particularly cute image—and needless to say, he was a far cry from angelic—but there was something about him like this that Tetsuya found inexplicably endearing. He could honestly say that he did not mind being the young master's pillow too much.

That was to be short-lived, however, because Kasanoda's head just kept rolling—off Tetsuya's shoulder and into thin air, where he caught himself just before his momentum carried him off the bumper.

"Mm-ugh," he moaned inelegantly. "What time is it?"

"I don't know. I just woke up, too."

A quick glance at his watch told Tetsuya it had stopped working. No doubt it was due to water damage from the night before. "It's morning, in any case."

The sun was just coming up over the hills, the light shining soft through the mist that hung over the fields. There were no road signs, no streetlamps, no signs of civilization but the old, worn road and the car they were sitting in.

"What do we do now?" Kasanoda mumbled.

Tetsuya sighed. "Now, I guess we look for a service station." He patted his coat pockets and found there was something missing.

Reading his mind, Kasanoda pulled out his cell phone, but he couldn't get a signal. "And a pay phone."

They packed some food and beverages into one of the grocery bags, and stuffed the thin blankets and a change of clothes in another, and each slung one over his back and started walking. The sun rose higher, and insects whined in the grass. The road took them over one hill, then down and up another. A few hours of more of the same and the most they encountered was a little wooden lean-to, where they stopped to take lunch in the shade.

"Some trip this is turning out to be," Kasanoda said.

Tetsuya couldn't say he didn't return the sentiment, but it was automatic with him now to try and put the best face on their situation he was able. "Well, I don't know," he said cheerfully. "I don't mind it so much if I'm out here with you."

"I'm skipping school."

Needless to say, that pronouncement was made with none of the vigor of the night before.

"Well, it is an adventure, all right—"

"And we ran Ibe's stolen car out of gas and left it on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere—Argh! We're dead!" And Kasanoda hung his head between his knees.

On that note, Tetsuya had to admit he had a point. His one consolation was the knowledge that if they couldn't even find themselves out here, neither could Ibe—who was probably on the rampage back home as they sat there. That was a problem they wouldn't have to confront head-on until—and if—they ever made their way back. And maybe, if they were really lucky, that wouldn't be until the whole thing had blown over back home.

That was when Tetsuya looked up and happened to spot—

"Look, Waka! Someone's coming!"

Less than ideally for them, however, the person he happened to spot was coming toward them on foot rather than in any sort of automotive vehicle; but it was another human being nonetheless, and it was enough for the two at that point just to be reassured they had not been the only survivors of some freakish nuclear event that had left the Earth otherwise unpopulated overnight.

The newcomer's progress was rather slow seeing as he was on foot, but, considering his age, he could have been said to be veritably trucking it. He was beanpole-thin, bespectacled, and sported a somewhat Colonel Sanders-esque beard and mustache, but it was his Edo-period traveling clothes and wide-brimmed straw hat that struck the two young men as a tad odd.

Without saying a word, the old man entered the lean-to and took a seat on the bench next to Kasanoda. He set down his pack with a huff. Then he took off his hat and wiped his brow, and his hair curled up over each ear.

Minutes passed, and despite the boys' open staring, he made no effort to acknowledge their presence.

"Um . . . excuse me. . . ." Kasanoda tried.

The old man turned to him so suddenly, it made the two start.

"Um. . . ." Kasanoda began again. "You wouldn't happen to know if there's any service stations around here—"

"Any what?"

"Er, gas stations. You know, to fill up? Our car kind of ran out of gas and—"

"Your what ran out of whoosit?"

Thinking he might have been hard of hearing, Tetsuya tried nice and loud and slow, "We're looking for the nearest service station. Can you help us?"

"I'm not deaf, sunshine," said the old man, in a rather dignified accent no less, "I just do not understand what it is you're talking about. But I suppose the next checkpoint station is a little ways on up the road here, and there are plenty of inns where you might find any manner of services there. But if you'll excuse me one moment, I think that cup of tea I stopped for is finally catching up with me. . . ."

The old man got up and strolled around the back of the lean-to to relieve himself, and that was when Kasanoda grabbed Tetsuya's sleeve. "That man looks awful familiar," he hissed. "I swear. There's something fishy going on here, I just can't put my finger on it. . . ."

Tetsuya slapped his hand away and gestured for silence. Two ripe oranges could be seen just inside the old man's pack, practically glowing with freshness. Just the sight of them was enough to make Tetsuya's mouth water.

Kasanoda noticed too. Quickly and quietly, using his best ninja stealth, he switched them out for a couple packs of instant noodles, carefully replaced the flap over the top, and put the oranges in his own grocery sack.

"So!"

Both boys jumped as the old man suddenly reappeared, but if he caught them pulling the old switcheroo on him, he gave no indication as he sat down beside his pack again. "Are you gents in some sort of act or some such?"

Kasanoda tried hard not to confess in panic.

"Um . . . no?" said Tetsuya. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, those bizarre costumes you have on, for one. Are you trying to impersonate foreigners?"

Tetsuya glanced down at his sweater and jeans, Kasanoda at his modded school uniform.

"These are our normal clothes."

"Yeah. Anyway, we were going to ask you the same thing," said Kasanoda.

"Never mind that." Tetsuya leaned over him. "Do you happen to know if we're close to the highway, or how we might find our way back to it from here?"

"You don't mean the Eastern Seaboard Highway," said the old man.

The boys nodded.

The man chuckled. "You young fellows with your queer sense of humor. Why, man, you're on it!"

The boys looked out at the dusty road that ran past the lean-to—then back at the old man. "Nah-uh."

"Oh, I assure you, this is it!"

Kasanoda was struck by a brilliant idea. "Okay. Then if you don't mind answering one more question?"'

"Fire away."

"Who's the current prime minister?"

"The whoosey-whatsit?"

"The prime minister of Japan! The guy in charge of running the country?"

The old man just shook his head at them both. "Now I _know_ I don't understand the sense of humor of today's youth. Young man, I don't know what 'jive' you are talking, but surely you at least know the shogun is running the country. Well, theoretically, at least, but I do split hairs. Shogun Tokugawa Ienari. The same Ienari who's been running this country for the past twenty years. Honestly, don't you young folk keep up on your current events?"

"Huh?" was all Tetsuya could say to that, while Kasanoda tried counting something on his fingers.

"Well, I had best be off if I'm going to make the checkpoint by nightfall," said the old man, getting to his feet and replacing his hat. "Say, you young gents wouldn't happen to know where a fellow could get a decent bowl of soup around here, do you?"

Tetsuya shook himself out of his stare long enough to stammer that he didn't, and the man shrugged and walked off.

"That's it!" said Kasanoda. "He looked just like our vice principal!"

"At your school? That's crazy. Although not as crazy as that guy was. Tokugawa Ienari. . . ."

But the young master suddenly sobered beside him, bracing himself with a hand on Tetsuya's arm. "That's right. Say, didn't Ienari come to power in seventeen-eighty-seven?"

"You know I didn't pay attention in class. What are you asking me for?"

"Then twenty years. . . ." Kasanoda's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head as he did the math. "Tetsuya. . . . I don't know how it happened, but I think, somehow, we ended up in the year eighteen-oh-seven. Tetsuya, we just went back in time two hundred years!"

"_What?_"

Tetsuya was on his feet like a rocket.

And Kasanoda right behind him. "Now, I know it sounds crazy—"

"Crazy? If you mean as in ape-shit, you bet it does!"

"But hear me out. You know those movies—right?—where the characters go through, like, a heavy fog that just pops out of nowhere, or a tornado, or some weird shit like that, and when they come out the other side they've somehow crossed over into another time with, like . . . ghosts and pirates and . . . and little people . . . and they can't explain it?"

Obviously, neither could he. Face perfectly straight, he gripped Tetsuya by both shoulders in a last-ditch effort to osmotically make some sense.

"Tetsuya. I think we may have to face the possibility that somehow we've inadvertently slipped—maybe even driven—through a time warp."

"A time warp, Waka?"

"Yes. To eighteen-oh-seven."

Tetsuya said nothing.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think you've been watching too many old movies. And," he added when Kasanoda sighed in exasperation, "that you've been spending too much time with that voodoo classmate of yours. There's no such thing as time warps, and you oughtta know better than that at your age."

"But that old man's clothes!" Kasanoda tried.

"He's just some lame cosplayer who doesn't know when it's time to grow up—or else a nut job who shouldn't have been let out of the home. Either way, you'll see. When we get to the next town, it won't be any different from anything back in the good old twenty-first century."

And Tetsuya was determined to see to it that that was the case, as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder and started trucking it back up the hill, Kasanoda racing to catch up behind him.

Because Tetsuya didn't know how to even begin to deal with the alternative; and he didn't want to even allow the possibility to enter his mind that the young master and his crazy theory might be right, even though every instinct told him they very well may be.


	4. よし！決まった！

While the appropriately named Akujiro and Akutaro, together in the same grade and class in Ouran's hallowed halls, looked almost nothing alike—one having feathered hair, big cheekbones, and lips like two Red Vines, while the other had a pug nose and bleached mullet—they knew nonetheless that there was enough shared blood in their veins somewhere for them to consider one another brother.

It was the morning after the almost biblical rainstorm, and they awoke to ready themselves for school only to find the Sendou compound swarming—more so even than usual—with mafiosi.

They followed the hubbub of activity to its point of thickest concentration: the Boss's kitchen.

"What's going on?"

"The Boss's been murdered," one of the men informed them.

"_Hah?_"

The two brothers pushed through the circle of loud silk shirts and hitched-up trousers to its center, where their group's boss, Mr Sendou himself, lay sprawled out on the floor in his blood and his apron, sleeves rolled up, eyes open, a sushi knife sticking handle straight up out of his solar plexus. Akutaro and Akujiro had never seen a dead body before in person, but there was no question in their minds as to whether or not he was dead.

"Who could have done such a thing?" one of his thugs was sobbing on the kitchen counter, stuffing his face with the cold tempura left out from the night before.

"Any number of rival groups trying to move in on our territory might have sent an assassin," said one of the lieutenants.

"Or it could be some individual on the outside with a vendetta," said one of the extortionists, dipping a shiitake in some gyoza sauce.

"The cops?" said Akutaro.

The older men just stared at the two teenage boys. "Ain't no cops gonna pick a beef with the Sendou clan."

"No," said Akujiro. "He means, shouldn't someone call the cops?"

The Boss's men just coughed and looked elsewhere. The two brothers should have known better by now: the yakuza didn't bother the cops, and the cops didn't get in their business.

"This is a family matter," said the lieutenant, before helping himself to a butterflied shrimp.

But even that statement was full of dangerous innuendo that made the brothers nervous.

Akutaro and Akujiro excused themselves off to one side.

"Who would have wanted to kill the Boss?" Akujiro asked.

"I don't know. But check that out."

Akutaro had spotted something on the floor by the door that nobody else seemed to have noticed. It was an umbrella, folded up but still wet.

He picked it up, and when he turned it over, he noticed the name written on the handle: "Kasanoda Ritsu."

The brothers started and looked at each other.

"Kasanoda was here?"

"Shh. . . . You think maybe he axed the Boss?"

"Yeah. I mean, sure, he _seems_ like a pussy, but there must be _some_ truth to what everyone says about him."

This time something caught Akujiro's eye, and he opened up the cell phone that had been lying under the fallen umbrella to discover: "Dude, this is Tetsuya-botchan's!"

"The Boss's son? Hasn't he gotten disowned by now? What was he doing here?"

"Oh, yeah," said one of Sendou's lackeys. "I thought I heard Botchan's dulcet tones in here last night. He and the Boss were really going at it. Figured they were having another one of their little rows."

"And you didn't think anything of it?"

The man shrugged.

Akujiro pulled Akutaro away.

"I think I get it!" he said. "Kasanoda wouldn't have the balls to kill the Boss on his own. But if it was about Botchan, who knows what he might have done!"

"Right! He's been jonesing for Botchan since the Boss kicked him out. He must've snapped!"

"We've gotta tell the others—"

"No, wait." Akutaro stopped him. "They'll never believe us. They'll just see it as some excuse to start a war between the families. This ain't no war. It's personal."

"So, what're you thinking? We go after Kasanoda ourselves? Make him pay for what he did to the Boss?"

"Precisely. No one else is gonna do it."

They looked up as one of the Boss's men called from the kitchen stove he was firing back up, "Anyone in the mood for donburi? Let's use up this pork before it goes bad," and shrugged.

"I guess you're right," said Akujiro. "Let's get the bastard!"

Instead of going to school, they headed in the opposite direction for the Kasanoda compound, Akutaro holding the umbrella in a death grip, Akujiro the cell phone.

But they arrived to find, to their surprise, that that household was all amurmur as well.

As they stood outside the main gates, they could hear the commotion inside:

"I'm telling you guys: some asshole stole my car!"

"That's what you get for not locking up, Ibe. Come on, as a criminal, you should know better."

"You mean that piece-of-shit hatchback? Shouldn't you be thanking them? It was bringing down the morale of the whole fleet."

"How can you dicks say that about my Greased Lightning?" said the man who was apparently Ibe, prompting a fit of poorly stifled laughter from the men around him. "You don't understand: that thing's my baby!"

"What d'you wanna us to do, huh? Call the cops?"

"No! Jesus, don't do that! I'm just saying we oughtta get the pricks who did this and castrate their asses, is all."

"Hey, have any of you guys seen Waka and Tetsuya?"

"Do you mind? Someone stole my friggin' car, here!"

Akutaro and Akujiro exchanged glances. Those thick-headed thugs might not have put two and two together, but _they_ had already reached the right conclusion long ago. This latest development was just further proof that Kasanoda Ritsu was guilty, because the stolen car was obviously part of his getaway plan. No doubt he had kidnapped Tetsuya on top of it all to keep Sendou's son from ratting him out.

But the brothers were never going to compete with his wiliness on foot. They needed a vehicle.

They went back for Akujiro's bike, and a short while later were once again on the trail, Akutaro riding the back wheel.

However, seeing as how they didn't have much of a—or any—trail to speak of, other than the knowledge that Kasanoda had taken off somewhere in one of his own men's cars, their chase was regrettably, randomly aimless. They patrolled the school grounds, accosting anyone who happened to be walking around outside for information in the off chance Kasanoda had dared return to class like nothing had happened.

But no one had seen heads or tails of him. So the brothers left campus and went downtown, circling like a two-headed shark all the spots the so-called Human Blizzard was known to frequent—record stores, nurseries, pet shops—and some of their own more backstreet frequent haunts as well, which earned them a little pocket change for their search courtesy of some frightened public school kids.

Then, as classes began to let out and there was still no sign of Kasanoda or their boss's son, they were rounding a corner when they nearly collided with a trio of private school girls dressed in fuchsia, who were so preoccupied warbling some nonsense at the tops of their lungs they almost let the bike run them right over.

"Hey, outta the way!" the yakuza brothers growled at them. "Can't you see we're in a hurry, here?"

"Oh, excuse us, gentlemen," said the tallest of the three with a chivalric bow. "We had no idea it was so _urgent_. Allow us to make way upon the sidewalk for your esteemed passage."

"You making fun of us?" Akutaro sneered. "'Cause we don't take kindly to sarcasm."

"Oh, not at all," said the second one with a flip of her long, luxurious hair. "We ask your pardon is all, and offer you the right-of-way, since you're _obviously_ so much more deserved of it than the three of us."

"Weirdos," Akujiro mumbled, but truth be told, he just didn't like the way the tallest of the girls was eying him and his brother.

"Very, very interesting," she said. She turned to her companions. "Tell me, Hinako, does this strike you as just a tad familiar?"

"Indeed," said the shortest. "It does indeed appear to be another of the ever-elusive buddy situations—but could we be blessed enough to witness two in a twenty-four hour period, Chizuru?"

"It is certainly unusual," said the one with the long hair. "I didn't think the instance of this sort of event was that high, did you, Benio? Perhaps it's something to do with the weather?"

Their tone was rather suspicious, to say the least, prompting Akutaro and Akujiro to ask, "What do you mean, 'buddy situation'? What are you talking about?"

"Yeah, 'cause if you're insinuating—"

"We're brothers, man!"

"Oh, then never mind," Benio said quickly enough with a casual wave. "Those other two, on the other hand. . . ."

"That example definitely had more of the air of a master and servant romantic romp. . . ." said Chizuru.

"But didn't they strike you as ruffians also?" said Hinako.

Ruffians, they said? The brothers exchanged glances. "Wait. Who are you talking about?"

"Oh, we don't pay that much attention to men," Benio said, dismissively again, "but the better looking of the two did have a long ponytail reminiscent of an angsty young ronin—"

"And a mysterious bandage on his cheek!"

Akutaro had an epiphany. "That sounds like Botchan!"

"And the mean-looking gent accompanying him had the most devil-red hair and eyes that could freeze you at a glance, and . . ." Chizuru paused and glanced at her schoolmates for support. "Come to think of it, I knew that emblem looked familiar. He was wearing an Ouran jacket just the same as the ones you have on."

Akujiro turned to his brother. "That was Kasanoda, I'm sure of it!"

"Where did they go?"

For the first time since nearly colliding with one another, the Lobelia girls had the brothers' undivided attention; but their memories, it seemed, were suddenly not so forthcoming.

"Where were we anyway?" said Benio. "You had come down with a case of the munchies, Hinako—"

"And we had just made an emergency stop at that convenience store just off the highway when they walked in out of the rain. . . ."

"I seem to recall—yes—they said they were on their way to Ise."

"Ise?" said Akutaro, with absolutely none of Chizuru's poetic annunciation, to which Akujiro slurred, "Whatever for?"

The girls shrugged as one. "None of our business."

"But it did sound terribly urgent. . . ."

"Ladies," said Benio to her companions, "never must we underestimate the drive which possesses a man who has set himself mind and soul to the attainment of a desire. It matters not how small, how inconsequential, nay, nor how foolhardy that desire may seem to outsiders—the beautiful thing is his passionate, narrow-minded wanting of it. You see, every man has a place, in his heart, a space, and the world cannot erase his fantasy."

While the other two girls nodded their heads at this sage wisdom, however, Akutaro and Akujiro felt a little like puking. Not to mention, the girls had it completely wrong. Kasanoda had only been in a hurry because he knew it was only a matter of time before someone—such as the yakuza brothers themselves—figured out what he had done, and came after him to avenge the Boss's murder.

And his careless slip of his final destination would be his undoing.

While the Lobelia girls developed a sudden unanimous craving for Mr Donut, the boys sped away on Akujiro's bike. There was no time to lose.

"Ise?" Akujiro huffed as he pedaled harder. "What the hell would he want in Ise?"

"Hey, that's a long ways away," Akutaro berated him from the back wheel. "You better step it up if we're gonna catch up to them."

"Screw you. We're never gonna get there on bike anyway. We need a faster set of wheels."

And several minutes later found their trusty bike stowed away in the front rack of the next bus to Ise, and their backsides resting comfortably in the cabin's plush seats as they plotted their revenge.


	5. Highway robbery

Back in the nineteenth century, the fields surrounding the highway had given way to forest; but the shade of the trees could offer little relief from the heavy, muggy air and the incessant droning of cicadas.

"This is a little unusual for November weather," Tetsuya panted, tugging at his sweater collar.

"Yeah," said Kasanoda. "Not only have we gone back in time, we seem to have gone backwards in the seasons."

That just prompted an exhausted sigh from Tetsuya.

"For the last time, Waka, we did not go back in time. Time travel as we know it is physically impossible. It just can't be done."

"Say whatever you want," Kasanoda grumbled as he kicked a stone on the path. "It's still eighteen-oh-seven."

"Whatever."

Tetsuya heaved another huge sigh. Not only was he hot and achy, he was sick and tired of walking this dirt road that didn't seem to be getting them anywhere. On top of it all, he was bored out of his mind. Spending what amounted to an extended nature hike with the young master was not helping matters as much as he had initially believed it would.

"I know," he said suddenly. "Let's play kick-the-can! That never gets old. . . ."

"What? Here?" said Kasanoda, but Tetsuya noticed how he instantly perked up at the suggestion.

He grinned. "I gotta do something, Waka, or I'm gonna go nuts—no offense. Here." And he finished off what little remained of the warm soda he had been carrying. "We can use this. Look, Waka. I perfectly good empty can, just ripe for the kicking. . . ."

Kasanoda tried to act coy, but he wasn't very good at hiding his interest. He was practically salivating in anticipation as Tetsuya shook the can back and forth. "Okay, it is kind of tempting."

"Here I go," Tetsuya said in a sing-song voice, getting ready to dropkick it.

Kasanoda plucked it from his fingers before he could do so. "Oh, no you don't!"

Before Tetsuya could fight him for it, he had rushed forward to an ideal spot in the middle of the road, set down the can, and was winding up an awesome kick. "_Go-o-o-oal!_" he yelled, rather preemptively, grinning from ear to ear, as his foot struck the can with a metallic _think_ and sent it soaring into the canopy.

It was promptly followed by a loud squeak and a soft thump.

The boys looked at one another. That had not been the sound they were expecting.

They rushed in the direction they had seen the can fly, and found it soon enough—along with a sparrow that had fallen onto the road.

"Nice shot," Tetsuya said.

Kasanoda gave him the bird, then squatted down over the sparrow. "Aw, shit," he swore when he saw the damage. "Shit. Aw, I hate hurting things!"

"Did you kill it?"

"Nah, just winged it, fortunately. Poor thing is stunned, is all."

At that, Kasanoda removed the jacket he had tied around his waist, and started tying it like a monk's surplice over one shoulder.

"What are you doing?" said Tetsuya.

"I'm taking him with me, is what."

"Seriously? You don't know what kind of parasites that thing might be carrying. Might have bird flu, for all we know."

"Well, I can't just leave him here. You got any better ideas?"

"We could barbecue it."

Kasanoda was horrified. Tetsuya might as well have just kicked a lame puppy the way the young master was staring at him.

"What? Don't look at me like that, Waka. I'm still a growing boy, I need protein! Plus, it's probably better you put that thing out of its misery. Quick. Hit it with something hard."

"I just hit it with an aluminum can! That's what got us into this mess in the first place!"

At the reminder, Kasanoda's shoulders scrunched up and he seemed to make himself even smaller and more pathetic as he crouched over the bird. He looked so downtrodden and guilt-ridden, Tetsuya found himself saying, "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. It was an accident. It could happen to anyone—"

Kasanoda turned to him with a look that froze his insides.

"You were the one who suggested that stupid game," he growled.

Tetsuya knew well enough that was his cue to back off. "Okay, whatever you say. You can do whatever you want with the bird. Just keep it away from me, you hear?"

"I think I'll call him Haruhi," Kasanoda said through a goofy grin. He nestled the sparrow inside the folds of his uniform jacket turned makeshift sling.

"Okay. Well, you and Harry had better get moving if we're gonna reach any sort of civilization by nightfall."

"Haruhi," Kasanoda corrected him, but he stepped up the pace nonetheless and they continued down the road.

They had maybe only gotten a mile further before they heard someone whistling an old-sounding tune up ahead.

It seemed like forever since the two had encountered another human being—and that had been the old man who looked eerily like Vice Principal Kazama—yet they reigned in their excitement for the sake of caution. Who knew what kind of characters could be waiting on this wooded path.

As they neared, they saw the faint tune, half whistled and half sung, was coming from a boy no older than Kasanoda, in Edo-period attire like the old man, and with a shock of ginger hair sticking out from under his bandanna. He turned at the sound of their footsteps, the tune dying on his lips, and that was when the two travelers noticed his crutch and bandaged leg.

The tension left them.

"Afternoon," said the boy in a weak voice.

"Afternoon," said Kasanoda woodenly.

"Hey," said Tetsuya, "you wouldn't happen to know if we're getting close to a town, would you?"

"It's still some miles away," said the boy, "but you should make it well before nightfall if you just keep on this road."

"Thanks."

"Say. . . . I hate to be a bother, but do you fellows think you could spare a little something for a poor cripple?"

Tetsuya looked at Kasanoda, who looked back at him. The young master shrugged and dug into his trouser pocket. It was against his nature not to help a person in need. Plus, he might still have felt a tad guilty from the episode with the sparrow. He handed the boy a thousand yen note, and just hoped they'd find an ATM in the next town.

The boy just stared at it quizzically, however, as he accepted the money. The two did not see how his golden eyes flashed dangerously after them as they continued on down the road.

If they had, maybe they would have been more aloof when they rounded the bend several minutes later to see the same ginger-haired boy ambling at a pathetic snail's pace down the side of the road.

"Oi, you fellows!" he waved them down with the hand not currently occupied with his crutch. "Penny for the poor?"

"Didn't we just leave this guy?" Tetsuya whispered. "He couldn't outrun us on his bum leg, could he?"

"Uh, we just gave you something," said Kasanoda. "Remember?"

"You did?" said the boy. "When?"

"Just, like, five minutes ago."

"Five minutes . . . No. No, I don't think so. Don't you think I would remember running into you?"

"Well, we sure as hell remember running into you!"

"Look," said Kasanoda, digging into his pocket again. "I don't want to cause any more trouble. Here." And he handed over another note. "You can treat yourself at the next stop."

After that, the two got out of there in a hurry.

The road wound back and forth upon itself in these parts through dense woods, limiting any travelers' visibility. However, Kasanoda and Tetsuya found even their disbelief hard to suspend when the same boy popped up again, this time waiting for them against the trunk of a tree.

"You again!"

"Are you guys jerking me around on purpose, or are you just stupid?" the ginger-haired boy asked them.

Kasanoda was livid. "Now look here—"

"What the hell is this?"

And the two found themselves facing Kasanoda's thousand yen note, snapped taut in front of their faces.

"I know beggars can't be choosers, but what's the deal, handing me a moldy old piece of paper? You think I'm blind as well as lame, I won't know the difference? What the hell am I supposed to buy with this?"

"Hey, I don't know what your problem is, but that's good money. Frankly, _we_ should be offended—"

The boy's sudden hacking cough cut Kasanoda off. He truly sounded like he was going to hack up a lung—or worse—at any moment. "I can't . . . even . . . buy medicine. . . ."

"Okay. Sorry, but not our problem. Excuse us," Tetsuya said nervously, and pulled Kasanoda quickly down the road.

"What's the rush?" the young master asked him.

"I'm getting us the hell out of here, is what. I don't know what that guy's playing at, and, yeah, maybe he does need help, but he's starting to seriously creep me out. There's just no logical way he can be getting ahead of us on that leg! And in that condition—"

Tetsuya glanced back over his shoulder, as though expecting at any moment to see the ginger-haired boy tearing after them through the woods like a demon. But the way behind them was empty and still.

"You think this time we might have left him behind?"

No sooner had he said that, however, then the boy appeared on the road before them once again.

"What's the big deal, huh?" Somehow he managed to look threatening swaying on one leg and waving the crutch menacingly in their direction. "You guys got something against cripples, you cold-hearted bastards? I could be dying, for all you know, and you just run off and ignore a fellow human being in need? What the hell's wrong with you?"

"That's what we should be asking you!" the two yelled as this time they ran for their lives, desperate to leave the ginger-haired boy behind them once and for all like a bad dream.

"The hell!" said Kasanoda. "Is he made of leprechauns or something? Because this is insane!"

"I know, right?" Tetsuya huffed. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

They finally reached the limit of their stamina, and stopped, panting, to check behind them once again. But once again, there was no sign they were being followed.

Then, from behind them:

"Ho, there, good fellows!"

They jumped and spun, just in time to see the ginger-haired boy leap down from a big rock and land nimbly in the center of the road, blocking their path. Grinning devilishly, his golden eyes flashing, and miraculously able-bodied, he pointed the crutch at them like a gun and said in a jolly, overblown English accent:

"Stand and delivah!"

At those words, Kasanoda recovered enough to be outraged. "What the fuck? Is this is a stick-up?"

The ginger-haired boy just grinned wider.

"Damn right, ugly. Now, hand over the goods!"

"Like hell!"

"You wanna die today, asshole?"

Apparently having a sparrow he planned on nursing back to health tucked in his jacket did not put any sort of damper on Kasanoda's inherent fearsomeness. Not to mention, Tetsuya had dropped his grocery bag at the first sign of trouble and had his fists free and ready for action. The ginger-haired boy's determination faltered for a moment, but he persisted.

"I know you've got cash on you. So what'll it be? Your money or your lives?"

"I just gave you two thousand yen!"

Meanwhile, something flashing in the bushes caught Tetsuya's attention. At first, he wondered if it had just been his imagination; but when he turned, he definitely caught sight of a figure moving stealthily behind the trees.

He dashed off the side of the road while Kasanoda was preoccupied with the robber, and emerged seconds later dragging another ginger-haired boy back onto the road by the collar—who looked no different from the one trying to hold them up. "Here's our problem right here, Waka," Tetsuya said. "Identical twins!"

Kasanoda blinked.

The boy in Tetsuya's grasp stopped playing feeble and wailed, "I'm cured! It's a miracle?"

Kasanoda's eye twitched.

"Stand and delivah?" the boy tried again.

"Hareru?" his twin asked, lowering the crutch.

The other shrugged. "Sorry, Kumoru."

Tetsuya released him, and he went to stand beside his brother. The two travelers had to marvel at the resemblance. There was almost no difference between the twin robbers, except the angle at which their hair stuck out of their bandannas—a difference most people being bamboozled by them would not bother to notice, having more important things—like their wallets—to worry about.

"So that's how you managed to get ahead of us," Kasanoda said.

The one called Hareru straightened himself out while his double explained: "It's a pretty good routine, don't you think? While one of us is guilt-tripping hapless travelers, the other is rushing ahead to head them off at the next pass."

"Nobody ever suspects we're not the same person because we look so much alike. Ever since we were little kids, people have been confusing us for one another. We finally found a way to put that to good use."

"By robbing hapless travelers?" Tetsuya said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The twins grinned at each other. "It earns us a little spending money. Plus, it's good practice for our act."

"Your act?"

"Together we're the world-renowned comic duo, the wonderful Weather Brothers!" At which point the twins waved their outstretched hands theatrically. "Please be gentle on us!"

Tetsuya was unimpressed. "You tried to hold us up!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," said Hareru while his brother shook his head. "We didn't realize you two were such noobs at this sort of thing."

"It's kind of sad, really. I mean, just look at the way you're dressed. Totally unprepared for the road."

"Which is why we've decided to go easy on you."

"Right. Or you just don't want to get beat up," Tetsuya muttered under his breath, but neither of them seemed to catch it.

"You can have your play money back if you want," said Kumoru. "I don't know what we're going to do with it."

He held his thousand yen note out as if in a gesture of good faith, but Kasanoda no longer cared. He was too busy marveling at their resemblance to another set of twins he knew. "Go ahead and keep it. If this is the nineteenth century, then it's not gonna do us much good either, is it?"

"Say," said Kumoru, glancing at his brother, "if you guys are heading to the Hakone checkpoint, too, do you want we should all go together?"

"Yeah," said Hareru. "I mean, we won't try to gyp you anymore, of course. Scout's honor."

"Lead the way," Tetsuya said with a shrug, and the twins started off with him and Kasanoda following a step behind.

"Say," said Kumoru over his shoulder, "seeing as we're gonna be traveling companions, what should we call you fellows, anyway?"

"You can just call me Tetsuya."

"Kasanoda Ritsu."

"Casanova?" said Kumoru.

"_Kasanoda._"

"Bossa Nova?" said Hareru.

Kasanoda tore at his hair. "My _God!_ Does it ever _end!_"

* * *

A/n: I gave the fake-Hikaru and -Kaoru names from the words for "clear up" and "cloud over," respectively—hence the "Weather Brothers". Punage all around! 


	6. Stand and deliver

The identical twins Hareru and Kumoru might have tried to rob them on the road, but they pulled through for the two travelers after all. Late in the afternoon, the four arrived at Hakone, the twins skipping down the road in the front, to find the town bustling with activity—all of which appeared to stem from couples and occasionally threesomes of men, who were posing and performing various odd tasks together in a manner more befitting a beefcake firefighter calendar photo shoot.

"We've arrived in a town of homos," Kasanoda observed unenthusiastically.

The twins laughed.

"No, no, that's not it, I assure you," Kumoru said, waving his hand. "They're just practicing, is all."

That cleared up nothing.

Kasanoda and Tetsuya exchanged wary looks. "Practicing?"

"See, the governor in charge of this checkpoint is a real hardass about who he lets through customs. In order to continue on, you have to do something he deems sufficiently 'refreshing'," Hareru explained with air-quotes. "Fucking noobs. . . ."

Well, that certainly explained the gentleman on one side of the street who was currently chopping wood shirtless, pausing every now and then to wipe the sweat from his brow. Somewhat less clear were the couples giving each other piggy back rides or massages—or, for that matter, the trio who were sitting on someone's porch with juicers.

"What do you mean," said Kasanoda, ignoring the twin's last comment, "refreshing?"

Kumoru cocked his head. "Well, that's the thing, isn't it? There's a lot of room for interpretation. What one person deems 'refreshing' is really a matter of personal taste."

"And the governor has the most discerning taste of all. He's a veritable connoisseur of refreshingness."

"Like that certain _je ne sais quoi_ of youth, for example. Rosy cheeks and cherry blossoms and all that? He really goes in for that sort of stuff. Your goal if you wanna continue on past the checkpoint is to do something that reflects that, and the more original and more refreshing the better."

"I still don't think I'm following," said Kasanoda.

The twins cleared their throats. "Observe."

"Hey, Hareru," Kumoru said in a loud voice, "wanna share this apple with me?"

"Wow," said Hareru, "that looks really juicy."

"I don't think I can eat the whole thing myself."

Instantly, to Kasanoda and Tetsuya's surprise, females suddenly appeared—literally from out of the woodwork—amid this town of men, and began to slowly close in on them.

Kumoru whipped out a knife and began peeling the apple.

No sooner had he done so, however, than he hissed in a sharp breath, and the apple fell to the dusty street with a soft thud. A quiet gasp fell over the female audience, followed by a squeal barely stifled in bitten handkerchiefs as Hareru seized his twin's injured hand in both of his, pulling Kumoru to him as he looked into his twin's eyes with concern.

"Kumoru! Are you all right?"

"I-it's nothing, Hareru. Just a scratch. . . ."

Another sharp intake of breath echoed around them as Hareru bent his head and pressed his lips to the heel of Kumoru's hand.

"You'll have to learn to be more careful," he muttered with a slight pout against his brother's skin. "_You're_ sweeter to me than any apple, Kumoru. You know I couldn't bear it if your tender flesh were marred on my account."

"Hareru. . . ."

As the twins stared dreamily into one another's eyes, locked in their loving poses, the crowd that had gathered around them erupted. They were pressed upon on all sides by girls clamoring the twins for autographs, and screaming something about delicious forbidden brotherly love.

Kasanoda was so embarrassed for them he lit up like a Hummel figure, and Tetsuya had to put a hand to his mouth. "Oh god. I think I just threw up a little. . . ."

"Ugh. Twincest. I told you this was a town of homos."

"Thank you . . . thank you, everyone! You're too kind!" The twins were beaming as they bowed and waved to the crowd. (Kumoru's hand, the other two noticed, was just fine.) "We're the Wonderful Weather Brothers, and we'll be here all day! Don't forget you can purchase our comic book for more of our wild adventures on the Eastern Seaboard Highway! Mind-blowing!"

"You shameless opportunists," Tetsuya said to them as the crowd began to thin. "How can you guys stomach talking about yourselves that way?"

"Well, it is just an act," Kumoru said. "So I guess that's why I never saw anything wrong with it. Plus, there's the profit. . . ."

"Now that you've seen what we can do, let's see what you fellows got."

Kasanoda and Tetsuya started. "Us?"

"Yeah. You wanna get back on the road, don't ya?"

"Uh. . . ." was all Tetsuya could manage, while Kasanoda cleared his throat and sidestepped very slowly away from him. The idea of doing something as suggestive as the twins had just done did not sit very well with either of them, if for different reasons.

"Wait! I know," Tetsuya said, grabbing Kasanoda's arm so suddenly the young master jumped. "A stand-up act is always refreshing, right? So, Waka," he said in a comedian's voice, "what did you want to be when you grew up?"

Hareru threw them his crutch, which Tetsuya upended to use as a mic as Kasanoda blushed and reluctantly slipped into a comic's voice of his own.

"What did I want to be, what did I . . . A baseball player."

"A baseball player, huh? I guess that's a pretty common dream."

"What about you? What did you want to be?"

"Me? A model."

Their animated words overlapped at a mile a minute.

"Eh?" Kasanoda said with feigned interest. "A model? That's a more unusual goal to have, but I guess you could pull that off better than I could. What kind of model?"

"A plastic model."

"A plastic—" Kasanoda blinked and dropped the act. "Hey, that's actually pretty good."

"Thanks."

"Hey, what do you guys think? Think we're ready?"

The twins were less impressed if their hums were any indication.

"It needs practice," Kumoru said.

Hareru jerked his crutch back. "_Lots_ of practice."

Just then, a crier cried out, "Make way for the honorable Governor!" and all around, people stopped what they were doing and got down on their knees.

Except for Tetsuya and Kasanoda, that was, who had no idea what was going on; and the twins, who just put their hands on their hips in anticipation.

After a lengthy procession, a palanquin rounded the corner, and when it reached the four of them it stopped.

The screen rolled up, and Kasanoda and Tetsuya nearly fainted in shock at the face that appeared behind it.

They supposed it was a man, in his forties or possibly early fifties, but he was wearing enough makeup for a whole gaggle of office ladies on their lunch break. His hair was done up in the style of a high class courtesan, and he wore the gaudiest, most clashing layers of kimono this side of Harajuku.

The two travelers stared.

The twins, on the other hand, saluted.

"Howdy, Gov'nah!"

"Howdy, Hareru, Kumoru," the so-called governor chimed in the most atrocious falsetto. "How's the weather today?"

"Just fine and dandy, thank you! Hope Your Fabulousness is doing just as well."

"Looking forward to what you two have in store for me this time. I'm simply bursting at the seams with excitement, I can't wait!"

The governor finally noticed Kasanoda and Tetsuya then, and his smile dropped to a disapproving scowl. His voice dropped an octave as well. "Friends of yours?"

Kasanoda bristled.

Thankfully the twins said quickly: "First-timers from Edo, apparently. They were just putting the polish on their act."

"Well, it better be a good one, is all I can say." And then the governor was all smiles once again. "I'll see _you_ boys later. Tootles!"

Then he ordered his palanquin carriers to mush, and they carried him away.

Kasanoda recovered his voice. "The hell was _that_?"

"He likes to be called Lady Misuzu," said Kumoru. "But in case you missed it, yes, that was the governor."

"You guys seem to be on good terms with, er, him."

"Oh, yeah," said Hareru. "I guess you might say we're regulars of his checkpoint. The governor is great to try new scenarios out on."

"You guys are nuts," Kasanoda said under his breath, and Tetsuya tried, "Hey, since you are on such good terms—"

"You think we could put in a good word for you?" Hareru shook his head. "Not a chance."

"Yeah, we have our reputations to keep up. You fellows better come up with something and come up with it quick if you want to keep on this highway, 'cause you're on your own."

Kasanoda and Tetsuya exchanged hopeless glances at that. Luckily, the former's stomach growling kept them from having to face that issue head-on for the moment.

The two checked into a nearby inn—the twins stayed behind to capitalize some more on their "act" with the town's female residents—and ordered a simple dinner. Kasanoda shared his with Haruhi the sparrow, who was regaining his faculties at a reassuring pace but was trusting enough, or else had warmed enough to Kasanoda's gentle nature, to remain with them in their room throughout the night.

The two were so exhausted from the walk that day that Tetsuya fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Even Kasanoda was having trouble staying awake long enough to run through their stand-up routine. Haruhi the sparrow listened with cocked head to his hushed voice, but—granted, even though he was a bird—his reaction was not very encouraging. Before long, Tetsuya's quiet snoring behind him and the drone of the crickets under the floorboards lulled Kasanoda into a deep sleep as well.

In the morning, the two went to pay the innkeeper before they set out to meet their fate. "I know you guys don't take paper money," Kasanoda said, digging into his trouser pocket, "but what about credit cards?"

"What are those?"

"So, no, then." Kasanoda pulled out a handful of change. "I don't know how much I owe you, so just tell me when to stop."

He handed the innkeeper a 500 yen piece, and immediately her eyes went wide, and she bowed and asked him in a suddenly ultra-polite tone of voice, "Sorry, sir, if I had known we were entertaining such esteemed guests, we would have served better food. I hate to ask, but, er . . . do you happen to have anything smaller?"

"That's right," Tetsuya said as they were walking out. "Things cost a lot less in the eighteen-hundreds. Waka, even with just our pocket change, we're filthy rich!"

That, at least, was reassuring to hear.

Because when they reached the customs station, they needed all the encouragement they could get. As they were waiting for their own audience with the governor, they were afforded the opportunity to check out their competition.

It was not promising. Nervous-looking men and women lined the edge of the courtyard, fidgeting as they awaited their own turns.

All except the trio who were currently up—the leader of whom had particularly prominent under-eye lashes that Kasanoda found oddly familiar.

"Hey! That guy looks exactly like Kuze-sempai!"

"Who?"

"The captain of our American football team. And those guys with him look just like the posse who's always following him all over the place."

At the head of the courtyard, on the governor's dais, "Lady" Misuzu sat in his full regalia, impatiently drumming his nail art on the armrest of his chair. "Well?" he said in that grating falsetto. "This isn't a quiz, you know. Are you boys going to do something today?"

"I'm getting to that." Kuze's double was calm, smiling suavely, his sleeves tied up and out of the way. "With the governor's permission, we will attempt to make the perfect glass of orange juice."

"This had better be refreshing."

"Oh, it will be, I assure you, or my name isn't Kuzu."

"Kuzu?" said the governor. "Sounds like rubbish."

"Obviously Your Honor has never heard of the world-renowned Kuzu Orange. It's very popular overseas. Observe." And he produced the produce from out of his shirt. "Behold. The Kuzu Orange. So round, so tender, so fragrant. The perfect way to cap off a hot summer day."

So saying, Kuzu sniffed the orange lovingly. Misuzu leaned forward in his seat.

Kuzu peeled the orange expertly, retrieved his manual juicer from an inside pocket, and within moments had produced a lovely cup of OJ. "Voila. For your consideration, I offer this feast for the tastebuds, the finest fresh-squeezed this side of Satsuma."

He knelt at the governor's feet, holding out the glass.

Misuzu took a sip, and thought it over for a long moment, rolling the flavors around on his tongue, swishing the orange juice around like mouthwash.

Then his whole face puckered up.

Kuzu blanched—as did the rest of his party. This was not going to turn out well.

Misuzu was virtually turning green as he turned to one of his young samurai aides and croaked, "_Arai-kun. . . ._"

"Okay. No problem. I can see from Your Honor's expression that was a little sour," Kuzu backtracked. "Straight Kuzu Orange juice can be a bit of an acquired taste. It probably just needs sugar. Or perhaps you were lucky enough to find the one bad Kuzu Orange in five million. If you'll permit me to just try again—"

"So you can make me vomit? I don't think so. Get these tasteless boors out of my sight!" Misuzu ordered as Arai and his fellows seized the trio. "Take them to . . . _the fence_."

Kasanoda and Tetsuya had no idea what that meant, but it sounded bad.

"Wait!" said the kid who looked eerily like Tarumi, pointing with his thumb at Tougouin's look-alike. "What did _we_ do?"

But the governor had already made up his mind—and that, apparently, was final.

His face disappeared behind a lacy handkerchief for a few seconds, and when he reemerged, the glow was back in his painted cheeks and watery eyes, along with the falsetto. "_Ne-e-e-ext!_"

Tetsuya dragged a suddenly very reluctant Kasanoda forward.

Misuzu's first impression was not very promising. "Oh. You two again."

Tetsuya cleared his throat and jumped right into it.

"Well, it sure is nice to be here in Hakone."

"Hakone? Is that where we are?"

Kasanoda asked more out of a daze than anything, but Tetsuya decided to roll with it.

"Ha-clearly! And the weather couldn't be better. Eh, Waka?"

Kasanoda got off to a slightly shaky start, but he mustered up his best comedian impression as he jumped in: "Yeah. It's great weather for a ball game."

"Speaking of ball games, did I hear you say you wanted to be a baseball player when you were a kid?"

"That's right. It was my big dream."

"It's a pretty common dream among kids these days, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I had to give it up."

"That's too bad. Why's that, I wonder. Couldn't cut it?"

"No, actually I was really good. At try-outs I kicked the ball right out of the park."

"Well, there's your problem, Waka!"

"What's my problem?"

"That's soccer, not baseball!"

"That's not baseball?"

"No, it's not! You should have changed your dream to a soccer player. Then you would have made it big!"

"Well, what about you? What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"Me? Well, it's kind of embarrassing, but I wanted to be a model."

"A model? Yeah, I guess that's not a very common dream for a guy, but you look like you could pull it off. What kind of a model?"

"A plastic model."

Having reached the punchline, Kasanoda ran out of things to say. He cocked his head and looked at the governor as if expecting a drum roll.

The two waited for their verdict.

They could see right off the bat it was not going to be any better than that of Kuzu's team. If anything, it was going to be a lot worse. The governor ripped the handkerchief he had been holding right in half. His eyelid twitched like one of his fake eyelashes was bothering him and his lips curled up in a slow snarl.

"_Arai-kun. . . ._ Another two for the fence!"

The young man saluted just a bit too enthusiastically. "Sir!"

"Hey, that's not fair!" Tetsuya wailed as samurai materialized beside them to drag them away.

"Yeah, our act was good, dammit!" Kasanoda shouted back.

He struggled against the men who had hold of him, and as he did so, the sparrow that was resting in the inside pocket of his jacket could stand the upset no longer. It worked itself free with a chirp and took flight.

Kasanoda stopped struggling when he saw that, a smile spreading on his lips. "Haruhi . . . you flew. Thank goodness, you're all better." He worked one arm free, calling after the bird: "Fly high, little guy—_fly to freedom!_"

"Stop!"

The men holding the two travelers did as ordered, and Kasanoda and Tetsuya ceased their struggling and blinked up at the governor, who had given the order.

He had stars shining in his eyes.

"That was beautiful!" he sang in a high tremolo. "Even if you are a scary-looking sod, the way you cared about that bird's well-being more than your own has touched my heart. So refreshing! You may pass."

Misuzu stamped a document that Arai handed to Kasanoda, who was promptly let go.

Kasanoda looked at the piece of paper, then at Tetsuya. "What about him?"

"Oh, he still fails. He's going to be staying here for a long time, until he figures out a way to put those good looks of his to proper use. Next!"

"Wait!" said Kasanoda, as Tetsuya was pulled away from him, and he found himself being pushed toward the exit. He pushed back against the samurai, shoes slipping in the gravel and the paper customs pass wrinkling in his hand, but to no avail. "Wait, you can't do this! We started this trip together. It was his idea! Either both of us pass or neither of us do!"

"Nope," said the governor. "I don't think so. That's not the way this station works. You were refreshing, he wasn't. That's final."

"It's all right, Waka," Tetsuya said, putting on a brave smile he obviously didn't mean. "Really. You go on without me. You've earned your pass."

"But the fence—"

"I'll be just fine. You'll see. I'll come up with a way to be refreshing, just like the governor said, and then I'll come join you. We'll be a team again. I said I'd always be there for you, that I'd always be there beside you, for as long as you'd let me, and I intend to keep that promise. 'Til the day I die, Waka, I promise you: I'll find a way to get back to you."

"Tetsuya. . . ."

A loud sob from the governor's dais interrupted whatever Kasanoda had been about to say. The two looked up at him, convinced they were going to be punished severely for this. Instead—

"_Super refreshi-i-ing!_" Misuzu sang in an operatic voice as mascara tears streamed down his cheeks. "What a confession! What self-sacrifice! _One billion points!_ That's the most moving display of a servant's affection I've seen all da-a-ay!"

"It is?" the boys echoed, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable.

"I can't break up such a deep, loving friendship. You both pass with flying colors!" He could barely stamp Tetsuya's passport, he was crying so hard in joy. "Now, fare thee well, young friends! Be excellent to each other! Live long and prosper! And y'all come back and see us again sometime, y'hear?"

"I seriously doubt that," Tetsuya said under his breath. He received his stamped pass and the two were shown the gate, Governor Misuzu sending them off with a wave of the torn half of his lacy handkerchief.

* * *

A/n: The punage continues. The fake-Kuze's name literally does mean "rubbish," and I won't even start explaining Hakone and "ha-clearly". (Hangs head in shame.) Credit goes to Takeshi Kitano, I think, for Kasanoda and Tetsuya's stand-up routine, which was pretty heavily borrowed from _Kids Return_. As for other references, since some readers have mentioned _Wizard of Oz_ parallels, it's probably about time I mention the two films that were invaluable in the inspiration of this story: _Yaji and Kita: The Midnight Pilgrims_ and _Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle_. Go get them. 


	7. Fright night

Night came early that day. Dark storm clouds rolled in, promising not rain but plenty of electrical activity, which Tetsuya could feel already in his hair.

"We better find some shelter," Kasanoda said, as though reading his thoughts. "I for one don't want to get struck by lightning tonight."

As though it were fated, no sooner had he said that than the two caught sight of an old house nestled among a crop of trees. It was huge and richly appointed—at one point it had probably been a quite handsome mansion—but a darkness hung over the estate now despite the summery day, as though the gathering storm had sprung up from the house itself.

"Looks haunted," Kasanoda observed.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," was Tetsuya's knee-jerk reaction. "Grow up, Waka."

"And you said time travel wasn't possible, too, but we went back in time, didn't we?"

"Shut up. The jury's still out on that one." It wasn't really, but Tetsuya couldn't deal with the ramifications of allowing that reality to set in just yet. He was going to put off admitting it as long as possible. "Maybe we can stay here tonight—"

"Are you serious?"

"Do you see any other structures around?" Tetsuya gestured to the uninhabited downs that surrounded them. "Come on. It can't be that bad. Let's just see if anyone's home."

They went up to the porch, their shoes crunching through dead leaves and pine needles all along the way, before hitting the wooden steps that creaked under their weight. The place sure looked abandoned; and when they knocked on the door frame and shouted out to anyone who might be home, several minutes passed without any response but a low rumble from the clouds in the distance.

At last, the door slid open on its tracks.

Kasanoda and Tetsuya were so taken unawares they yelped and nearly stumbled back. The face that appeared out of the darkness on the other side did little to assuage their unease either.

Staring out at them was an unusually tall and gaunt man dressed in a servant's nondescript clothes. Pale eyes bored suspicious holes into the two young men from out of a bony face. The guy's pate was balder than a monk's, and a long, jagged scar that had obviously healed poorly ran menacingly down his left temple. His deep voice rumbled: "You rang?"

The boys gulped.

"Um, er," Tetsuya began, "we were just wondering if you might have a room for rent tonight. I mean, normally we wouldn't be troubling you, but there's a storm coming, and—"

"Oh, wonderful! More travelers!" came a rich female voice from behind the tower of a man.

He moved aside, and a maid appeared carrying a lantern. Her sharp eyes peering out at them were almost feline, and the way her hair pushed the sides of her cap up reminded the two eerily of a cat.

But she sounded normal enough as she waved them inside. "Do come in! Looks like we're in for nasty weather tonight, and far be it for us to deny travelers shelter even on a fair day. Besides, we were just putting the finishing touches on dinner, and I'm afraid we have way too much food for just the couple of us."

"Sounds nice. Sorry to be a bother, though," Kasanoda said as the maid led the two of them through the dim house. The walls were a dark, richly polished wood and the tatami was spotless. Only the slightly musty scent of age reminded the two boys of the wreck the mansion had looked like from the outside.

"No trouble at all!" the maid said, bowing her head to them. "Let me show you to your room so you can put down your things and relax."

Said room proved to be as big as Kasanoda's living room back home, with two thick futons folded up against the walls a person could just melt in. The boys marveled at the size of their digs. "You're sure this isn't too much trouble?"

"Not at all," said the maid. "We're always glad to have company such as yourselves. It gets so lonely in this big house these days, ever since. . . ."

She trailed off mysteriously, causing Kasanoda and Tetsuya to exchange curious glances. Was it just his imagination, Tetsuya wondered, or had the temperature in the house just fallen a couple of degrees?

The maid went on, however, as though nothing had happened. "Well, you boys are probably starving. Why don't you help yourselves to some appetizers while I finish preparing dinner."

That did sound good. And Kasanoda and Tetsuya were not about to pursue what had happened in the house before when they saw the inviting glow of lamp light emanating from the dining room.

The maid pushed back the screen.

And who should they find already sitting there gobbling up the appetizers but the twins Hareru and Kumoru.

"Yo!"

Tetsuya managed a very unenthusiastic wave, which was more than could be said for Kasanoda. In his utter dismay, he couldn't be roused to do anything.

"So, we meet again," said Kumoru.

"Stand and delivah!" Hareru tried and accomplished poorly around a full mouth.

"Oh, good," said the maid. "I see you're already all acquainted. Well, then, I'll just leave you boys while I tend to the main course. Please, make yourselves at home."

Kasanoda and Tetsuya didn't have the heart to tell her those twins were their new arch-nemeses, so there she left them.

"So," Kumoru said as the newcomers took their seats across from the twins, "you fellows made it past the Hakone checkpoint after all, did you?"

He coughed and held his hand out to his brother, who shook his head.

"Not so fast." Hareru leaned over the table. "Did you cheat and make a run for it, or what? Don't tell me that crappy-ass stand-up routine of yours actually worked."

"You're right. It didn't—"

"A-ha!"

"But we discovered all we really needed," Tetsuya said without breaking his stride, "was to just be ourselves."

"Yourselves?"

Kasanoda and Tetsuya nodded.

The twins looked them up and down before exchanging glances. "Right. . . ."

"You _did_ make a run for it—"

"Oh, come on, Hareru!"

"No, I'm not paying you a sen unless they passed fair and square!"

Kumoru sighed. "And now we'll never know that, will we?"

"We're telling the truth," said Kasanoda.

"You had a bet running on us?" said Tetsuya.

"Well, you two are just about the strangest thing to come along in our travels in a long while." Hareru pointed his chopsticks at them. "Your weird clothes, that gag money from the future you tried to pass off on us—"

"We really are from the twenty-first century," said Kasanoda.

At which the twins laughed.

"Oh, come on already! You two are gonna wear that one out!"

"Okay, okay, I'll bite. What's Edo like in the twenty-first century?"

Kasanoda and Tetsuya exchanged glances. "Big?"

The twins veritably exploded.

"Mind-blowing!" Kumoru screamed, holding his middle.

"Have mercy!" Hareru pounded the floor. "I give up! Seriously, you guys. . . ."

Tetsuya snorted and stuffed a gyoza in his mouth. "Whatever. I don't know how we wound up here, but I know this is just some big Edo-period fair. If anything, it's really sad that you guys won't buck up and admit to that. I mean, I know you're trying to stay in character and all, but you must think we're really naive. I for one am not going to give you the satisfaction."

Kasanoda tried to get his attention to tell him to stop with the vehement denial already, but Tetsuya didn't catch it. He glared hard at the twins, who wiped their eyes as they sobered and returned to their spots.

"Whatever, Edo boys," Hareru sighed. "Say, where are you fellows headed anyway?"

"Ise," Kasanoda said.

"We were on our way to Edo ourselves," said Kumoru. "We wanted to have a ride on the elephant, until we heard that it had mysteriously vanished."

"After which we turned right around. No point wasting our precious time. See, we're from Naniwa ourselves—"

"Oh!" said Tetsuya. "Osaka! That explains a lot."

Kasanoda shot him another look.

"I don't know what Osaka is," said Hareru, "but whatever. The point is, you ever heard of an elephant just vanishing like that? What a tourist trap. . . ."

"It's mind-blowing, right?"

"It's bullshit," said Kasanoda. "You can't just disappear a whole elephant. Someone would notice."

"Why's that?" said Kumoru.

"Because it's a friggin' huge animal, is why."

"Haven't you guys ever seen an elephant?" Tetsuya asked.

"Of course!" said a suddenly indignant Hareru. "It's got, like, a long nose, right? And it reeks to high heaven—"

"But I hear its fins are really tasty!" said Kumoru.

His twin looked like he was about to hit him.

At which point Kasanoda and Tetsuya finally realized they were dealing with a couple of uneducated morons.

Thankfully, that was when the maid and the secretary returned with the rest of the food. "Dinner is served."

The four boys hadn't realized just how hungry they were until they got a load of the dishes that were laid on the table. Trays of freshwater fish, broiled or dried, rabbit and sweet potato stew, glistening fruit and vegetables, and some kind of tender-looking mystery meat that was still sizzling on its skillet.

"Thanks for the food!" the twins chimed, and tucked in.

The maid and the secretary took their seats at the head and foot of the table while Kasanoda and Tetsuya helped themselves to a little of everything.

"This is amazing," Tetsuya said at one point, with his mouth full. "You two eat like this every night?"

"Alas, yes." The maid dabbed the corner of her mouth. "I know it seems decadent, but perhaps we've just gotten so used to fixing such lavish meals over the years that we don't know any other way to live, even after . . ."

She trailed off, and the secretary hummed in concurrence. Again, Kasanoda wondered what they were hiding.

This time, he couldn't hold his curiosity back any longer. "What's the deal with this house, anyway?" he asked.

Tetsuya looked at him like he'd said something indecent.

"What? I'm just curious."

The maid put down her chopsticks and sobered. "It's a sad story, but I suppose it has to be told sooner or later."

"You see," said the secretary, "there used to be a very happy couple of a most respected name living in this house with their two beautiful children. But they say the family line was cursed by a demon-cat god eons ago, and one day the master and his wife simply vanished, very suddenly and very tragically, leaving their two children without a word or warning—"

"To make matters worse, soon after that, their handsome boy left this world as well after a long illness, leaving his baby sister all alone in this great, big house."

"Some say he was possessed by the demon god himself; others speculate it was a subtler madness."

"But whichever the case, the sister loved her brother so much, her brother who was like her light in the dark, that the loss was devastating. She never recovered."

"The townspeople say that some nights, you can still see her lonely lantern light bobbing through the darkness."

The twins gulped.

"And on a stormy night like tonight," the maid said in a low voice, "you might even hear her voice, echoing plaintively through these dusty halls: _Big brother, big brother, where did you go?_"

Tetsuya's spoon shook, and Kasanoda only remembered the tea cup he had halfway to his lips just before he dumped it into this lap. As the maid and the secretary watched them in the candlelight, their expressions grave, the four travelers could just hear the wind blowing through the tall trees outside as the storm began to pick up.

The secretary's sudden laughter made them all jump. "Ha-ha! Just kidding!"

"You boys should have seen the looks on your faces!" the maid cackled. "Priceless!"

Kasanoda was glad to see he and Tetsuya weren't the only ones who were mortified at having been taken in by the story. The twins coughed and all of a sudden found the food incredibly fascinating. He and Tetsuya laughed nervously as they exchanged glances. "Heh-heh, very funny. You got us that time, all right."

"Like there's such things as ghosts and curses in this day and age."

The secretary's laughter died just as suddenly as it had started. "Or are there?"

Again, Tetsuya felt a deep chill.

"Well? Please, eat up!" said the maid. "You're all still growing boys, right? Eat, eat!"

Suddenly unsure of where they stood with these two, the four guests took the suggestion as an order to be obeyed.

"This is wonderful, by the way," said Hareru, pointing at the mystery meat and desperate to change the subject. "What is it?"

"Just a little thing we like to call _passero cacciatore_," said the maid.

"Well, it's to die for, whatever it is!" Tetsuya said.

He could not have picked truer words.

To his surprise, the chopsticks fell out of Kasanoda's hands. He glanced over to find the young master hanging his head, his eyes wide as he stared at his plate in horror.

"Waka. What's wrong?"

"_Passero_. . . . That's sparrow."

"Oh." Tetsuya spit what he had left in his mouth into his napkin. "Oh, I'm sorry, Waka. I mean, poor Harry—"

"_Haruhi!_"

"Hey, there's a good chance it wasn't him, right?" Tetsuya glanced between the maid and secretary, who were puzzled by his companion's reaction. "He had this bird he was nursing back to health," he explained, "so forgive him if he might still be a little sensitive . . . Anyway, it's not like it was the same bird, right?"

"I don't know what to tell you," said the maid. "They all kind of look the same. Except that this one did have a broken leg."

Kasanoda jerked, as though a heavy wash pan had just fallen on his head from out of the sky.

"Snapped clean through," said the secretary. "You can check the bones if you'd like."

"Someone must have hit it with something, is all I can guess."

Another blow, and Kasanoda's head hung even lower.

"It's for the best, you know," the maid said. "We put it out of its misery if that's any consolation."

"Sorry."

All eyes went to Kasanoda, who looked unusually pale as he rose shakily from the table. "May I be excused?" he said to the maid in a low, struggling voice. "Suddenly I don't feel so hot. . . ."

"Of course, of course." The maid was rising to her feet with an obliging smile as though she weren't remotely responsible for his current difficulty. "Where are my manners? Here, let me show you where to find the bathroom. You boys have to be extra careful about picking up germs on the road. . . ."

Tetsuya picked at the rest of his dinner rather than follow the young master, but he found he had no more appetite. Thankfully, the twins did their best to ignore him—though he noticed they didn't have any reservations about polishing off the rest of the _passero cacciatore._

Tetsuya knew he should go after Kasanoda—after everything he had said at the Hakone checkpoint, it seemed a bit hypocritical of him not to, especially when Kasanoda was obviously feeling under the weather—but something kept him that was not quite as strong as shame, and not quite as simple as respect for the young master's privacy either.

When he opened the door to the bath later that evening, he could run from the issue no longer.

Kasanoda was already in the tub, sulking as he soaked.

"Mind if I join you?" Tetsuya asked, flashing his best smile.

He realized immediately afterwards that that might not have been the best course of action to take.

Kasanoda turned away from him. "Kinda," was all he muttered.

It might have been a far cry from an invitation, but it was not a definite no either. Tetsuya put a folded robe and towel on the bench and stripped down. He wound his hair around his finger until he could make a topknot out of it. The wall was open to the outdoor air at the top, and the storm system had caused enough of a drop in temperature for him to shiver a little and climb that much faster into the hot water.

"Hey, these are some nice digs," Tetsuya said, trying to lighten the mood as he leaned up against one side of the huge tub.

There was no answer from the young master. He was avoiding Tetsuya's eyes too.

What seemed like a longer time than it no doubt was passed in silence, before Tetsuya could stand it no more.

"You're not still angry about the bird thing, are you?"

If anything, Kasanoda just slipped lower into the water.

"I mean, it was terrible, what happened to Harry—er, Haruhi, but you know these country folks. They'll eat just about anything that moves."

Still no answer.

"Look, I know I can't take anything that happened back, but I really am sorry—"

"I'm not angry, Tetsuya. Not at you, anyway. It wasn't your fault . . . was it?"

That sounded passive-aggressive if Tetsuya ever heard it. Yet he was dumb enough to open his mouth: "Well, I guess you _were_ the one who kicked that can—"

The gloom suddenly coming from the other side of the tub was practically tangible, like a miasma.

"What, do you think I don't hate myself enough already as it is?" Kasanoda growled. "Besides, _you_ were the one who suggested that stupid game. . . . In fact, if it wasn't for _you_ we'd never even be in this situation in the first place, because we never would have gotten lost and gone back in time to the nineteenth century, and I never would have had to kick that can anyway! You made a murderer of me, Tetsuya!"

Maybe making his apology in the bath had not been Tetsuya's best idea, because so far it was going over abysmally.

"Hey, how was I supposed to know any of that was gonna happen? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you wanted to take this trip just as much as I did—"

"Just get out, already. Leave me to my suffering."

Kasanoda's words were muttered so low to the water they actually made bubbles. It just struck Tetsuya as childish.

"Fine." He was up and out of the water with a towel around his waist in a heartbeat. "Go ahead and sit here feeling sorry for yourself all night for all I care."

Kasanoda shrugged. "Fine. Maybe I will."

"Fine!" Throwing the yukata around his shoulders and fixing his ponytail so hard it made his head hurt, Tetsuya stormed back into the house, muttering one last "Spoiled brat" for good measure.

Tetsuya was so mad he climbed into his futon without bothering to change his clothes. He wasn't even sure why he felt the way he did. He just knew he would be up for hours running their argument through his head, and that he would have to pretend to be asleep when Kasanoda finally came back to their room.

But what seemed like hours passed and there was no sign of the young master. It was getting so ridiculous, and sleep evading Tetsuya further and further, he finally pushed himself to his feet with an exasperated sigh and threw open the bedroom door.

Instead of stepping out into the hall, however, he was surprised to find himself in a room that looked unnervingly similar to his own back home.

That was, not back in the place he now called home, but in his childhood residence, the Sendou compound.

The room his father still kept made up for him exactly like he'd left it, even though Tetsuya made it clear on more than one occasion he had no intention of ever coming back, and his father had no intention of welcoming him back anyway.

That was when he remembered he had been about to do something. There was something on his hands—he could feel the weight of it, the stickiness, but he didn't know what it was—and something he had just come from, something he was sick to death about, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what that was either. Nor was he sure he wanted to.

"Tetsuya."

It was his father's gruff voice.

He spun around automatically, a yessir on his lips, to find his old man standing over the kitchen bar counter, sushi knife in hand. A flash of lightning through the pouring rain illuminated his figure, his blood-soaked apron. "Are you listening to me, boy? _Tetsuya_—"

"Hey! Tetsuya! Wake up, man!"

A hard jerk on his shoulders snapped him awake. He opened his eyes to find the young master's staring into them. "Waka. . . ." Tetsuya rubbed his eyes and sat up. "What the hell?"

"I heard a noise."

Outside, the wind was whipping through the tall trees and the chimes hanging from the eaves, and every now and then a distant rumble of thunder could be heard.

Tetsuya groaned and shook himself free. "It's just the storm, Waka. Go to bed—"

"Not _that_ noise. I'm not retarded. I'm telling you, that's not what I heard!"

Despite Tetsuya turning over and very obviously wanting to go back to sleep, the young master kept at him, nudging him hard so he couldn't nod off even if he wanted to. It was making Tetsuya lose what patience he had left very quickly.

"Tetsuya, I'm serious—"

"So am I. Will you knock that—"

Tetsuya never got to finish. He bolted upright in the futon and Kasanoda went stock still beside him as they caught beneath the sounds of the storm a soft keening, drifting through the house like it were coming from the walls themselves. It almost sounded like—dare he even admit it—like a little girl's crying.

Just like the maid had warned.

Tetsuya gulped, and just hoped Kasanoda wouldn't notice.

"What is that?" he whispered. "Some sort of cat?"

"_The demon-cat god!_" Kasanoda hissed.

"N-no such thing. It's . . . it's probably just those evil twins trying to scare us again."

No sooner had Tetsuya said that, however, then there was a knock on their side door that made both of them start and spin around.

The door was thrown open on its tracks and the two twins tumbled into Kasanoda and Tetsuya's room, fully dressed for flight, pillows clutched tight to their chests.

"Can we sleep with you guys tonight?" Kumoru said sheepishly.

"Yeah. Safety in numbers, man!" said Hareru.

"You kidding? You two are a liability!" Kasanoda tried alternately to push and drag the two back through the door, but they made dead weights of themselves and were determined not to budge.

"It's all true!" one of them cried in his own defense. "We saw the lantern, see! The one the secretary was telling us about."

"Right! It was floating along above the balcony on the other side of the garden and disappeared into the house again. And when we looked—_we saw there was no one carrying it!_"

Another wail rose up on the night air, louder than before. Lightning crashed outside, highlighting the fright on all four of their faces. There were no two ways about it: they were in this mess together now.

With their best ninja stealth, and Kasanoda and Tetsuya still dressed in bathrobes, the four slid cautiously out into the hall, eyes darting around to all the dark corners of the mansion—and the mansion, it seemed, was nothing but dark corners. They couldn't just wait for whatever was making that sound to come and get them without some sort of plan. Though it terrified them to do so, they decided without a word that a proactive approach was best.

Once again they heard the crying. And this time they could make out faint, sobbed words—just like in the maid's story: _Big brudder . . . big brudder, where did you go?_

The four were slowly backing away from the direction of that voice when suddenly, with a cry of alarm, Tetsuya and Hareru, who had been in the back of their group, tripped backwards over something and went down.

The other two spun to help them only to find themselves facing a solid wood door.

"Hareru!" Kumoru said, pounding on it in vain, while Kasanoda tried the handle. It wouldn't budge.

They could hear Hareru on the other side trying to pry open the door as well, but likewise to no avail.

Tetsuya hissed as he got to his feet after landing hard on his backside. "Did something trip us?"

"Who cares about that now?" said Hareru. "We gotta get out of here! Damn. Kumoru . . . what'll I do without him?"

His eyes met Tetsuya's and he blushed and stuttered. "Uh, I mean, what'll he ever do without me? He scares so easily, you know, what with his weaker constitution. . . ."

Tetsuya couldn't care less. He hurried to the door on the opposite end of the room and threw it open easily. He didn't even look back to see if the twin was following him, just kept pushing open doors. One of them had to open back into the hallway, though so far they were all just identical, empty rooms. Tetsuya felt like he was on a loop. "Damn. . . . Does this ever end?"

Meanwhile, in the hall, all the noise must have alerted the mansion's ghost to their position, because Kasanoda and Kumoru could make out the faint glow of a lantern growing brighter as it neared the corner up ahead. The two stared in horror knowing it was only a matter of time before the ghost revealed itself to them.

Just before the moment of truth, Kasanoda recovered his wits enough to pull the stunned Kumoru with him down a side corridor, until another lightning strike broke the spell.

"I can't take this anymore!" the twin said. "I'm getting the hell out of here while I still can!"

"What about your brother?"

"Hey, if he's got half a mind, he'll get out, too!"

And just like that he took off, leaving Kasanoda all alone.

With the eerie crying, now just a few meters away from him around the far corner.

Kasanoda felt like his heart had leaped up into his chest. He swallowed hard. Perhaps he was doomed as soon as he made up his mind, but he just had to see what was making that sound once and for all, even if his curiosity ended up being the death of him. Like he was in a bad dream, or a bad movie, it was like his legs had taken on a life of their own as they edged him closer to the corner, close enough to peer around—

Where he nearly ran smack-dab into a little five-year-old girl.

From the looks of it, he nearly sent her to an early grave, too. She shivered from her toes all the way up to her blond pigtails, and whispered a terrified: "_Cat demon. . . ._"

It was a moment before it occurred to Kasanoda, one, that a ghost wouldn't be frightened, and, two, that she had just mistaken him for a cat demon and he should probably be offended. "Hey, it's okay," he tried, suddenly feeling guilty. "Don't cry, I'm not a demon—"

He went to put his hand on the girl's shoulder—which, thankfully, he found very corporeal—and she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Gah, this would be so much easier if I weren't going commando. . . ."

The two turned to see Tetsuya coming around the other end of the hall.

When he saw the little girl, however, he started and shouted something unintelligible about ghosts, lost his balance, and just had the clarity of mind to pull down the hem of his yukata before he exposed the little girl to more than her five-year-old mind could handle.

"Young miss, are you all right?"

That was the maid, who appeared with the secretary in tow, a lantern in his hand.

The little girl ran to her, throwing her pudgy arms around the maid's neck. "Where's big brudder! I'm scared, I want my brudder!" she cried to the maid's gentle shushing.

Tetsuya and Kasanoda, together again in their matching bathrobes, could only stare at this awkward, pseudo-family moment.

The secretary swung the lantern around the hall. "What happened to the other two?" he asked the travelers.

Kasanoda and Tetsuya shrugged. "They took off."

That news didn't seem to surprise the secretary in the least.

"So . . . all that stuff about ghosts and curses," the boys asked sometime later after the storm had passed them over and they were properly dressed, "you just made that all up?"

"Well, somewhat," the secretary admitted. "Our master and his wife really did pass away suddenly. That wasn't a lie. And their son really was in poor health and decided to leave us some months ago, strike out on his own."

"It's not our problem if you came to the wrong conclusion," the maid said, "although, the old curse of the august and ancient Nekowara family line does have its advantages from time to time."

"What advantage is that," Kasanoda said, "scaring away visitors?"

"Well, not to put to fine a point on it. . . ." The maid glanced at the little girl, who was busy swinging her legs off the porch as she sipped warm milk. "But yes."

"Not to mention," said the secretary, "it was totally worth it just to see the looks on you fellows' faces."

"Whatever," Tetsuya said. "I still think those two had this house rigged from the get-go. They've got scaring the shit out of people down to a science."

But Kasanoda was no longer listening. He and the young mistress of the house were too busy making faces at one another.


	8. Convenience store shuffle

While the two time travelers were cruising the nineteenth century highway by foot, Akutaro and Akujiro took it by bus. They were just starting to worry they might have lost their quarry's trail, when said bus pulled off the highway to make a pit stop.

The cabin was near empty when Akutaro got a load of where they had ended up. He nudged his brother awake, making him hit his head against the window.

"Ow, Jiro . . . What the fu—"

"Check it out, man!" Akutaro pointed out the window responsible for Akujiro's sudden headache.

"So what? It's a convenience store."

"A convenience store just off the highway? Dude, maybe it's the one those chicks said they ran into Kasanoda in!"

Never mind that there might have been hundreds of such convenience stores. Akutaro had a feeling about this one. Judging by his brother's "Hey, yeah!" it seemed Akujiro did, too.

They disembarked, and strolled into the establishment with the toughest swagger they could manage. The snack foods and soda machine trembled.

The proprietress, however, was not impressed.

"Check it," Akujiro said to her. "We need some information about a couple guys who were in here last night."

"Do you know how many people I see a day?" the woman snapped back.

"Yeah, but, see," Akutaro tried, "this one guy had a really ugly mug you wouldn't forget real quick, and this greasy Raggedy Andy hairdo—"

"Like this fellow here?" The woman pointed to Akujiro.

Whose licorice-rope lips pouted self-consciously. "It's _feathered_. . . ."

Akutaro elbowed him. "Hey. Show her the sketches you did. He's a really good artist—"

"Some people confuse my stuff with Go Nagai." Akujiro's confidence returned as he fished out his sketchbook.

He opened it up to the appropriate page. There were two faces on it, one a heroic visage of Tetsuya with a sweet smile and surrounded by cartoon sparkles—basically the only thing missing was the halo. The other was a hideous mess of fangs, evil eyes, devil horns, dark vibes, rocket punch, and crazy bed-head. The latter had "Kasanoda: villain" written in clumsy katakana next to it, because, judging by the scratched out part, Akujiro couldn't remember which kanji to use for their arch-enemy's name.

Both were drawn so abysmally, however, that the proprietress wouldn't have recognized who the pictures were supposed to be of if the two in question had walked into her establishment right then. Go Nagai, her ass. . . . "Is this some kind of joke?"

Akujiro and Akutaro's faces fell. "You . . . you sure they don't look familiar? You hardly even looked—"

"Like that atrocious scribble would look like anybody. My four-year-old draws better."

"It's a perfect likeness!"

"Besides, I wasn't the one working the store last night."

"Well, bring them out, whoever it was! Show us the security tapes! It's a matter of utmost importance!"

"I'm not calling my employees at home! Now, either buy something or get out of my store, you punks!"

The two brothers exchanged glances, humbled.

Then they turned back to the wall behind the proprietress. "Can we get two packs of Lucky Strikes?"

The proprietress just put her hands on her hips. "You boys got ID for that?"

Akutaro and Akujiro exchanged even more uncomfortable glances.

That was when they heard the hiss of air brakes disengaging and the loud rumble of a diesel engine.

They ran out of the convenience store just in time to see the bus they rode in on pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

Without them.

And with their bike still on the front rack.

"Hey, that's our ride!" Akutaro yelled after it.

"That's my bike!" Akujiro shouted.

The two came to a stop at the end of the parking lot, realizing there was nothing they could do. The bus was moving too fast for them to ever catch up. Plus, it cramped their style to actually give chase and exert themselves. They were stranded at the convenience store in the middle of nowhere, with a proprietress who hated their guts. Hell would freeze over before they asked her to call them a taxi.

Then, as their luck would have it, a bright yellow Vespa swerved around them to pull into the convenience store parking lot.

The two brothers watched, a plan hatching in their heads, as a young woman with shocking pink hair and a guitar slung across her back parked it and dismounted, and walked into the convenience store.

Akutaro didn't have to ask Akujiro if he was thinking the same thing.

They waited until the young woman was turned toward the refrigerated case, hopped on the Vespa, and started it up. They heard the mechanical "Welcome!" chime sound behind them as the store's door was thrown wide open, but only had time for a glance over their shoulders at the Vespa's pissed off owner, as they were already buzzing out of the parking lot, Akutaro holding onto Akujiro for dear life.

The last road sign they had seen before pulling off the highway said Hakone, Shizuoka, and eventually Ise were that way. If they just kept on this road, they must eventually run into Kasanoda.

And then justice would be served.


	9. Plum on a hot tin roof

The previous night's storm had all passed, leaving a bright blue sky for Kasanoda and Tetsuya when they set out. Their bags were laden with good eats packed for them by the Nekowara maid, and the little girl who had given them such a fright the night before was very reluctant to part with Kasanoda, who—despite still reminding her of a demon-cat god—made a rather fine plaything.

They were maybe a couple hours down the road when Kasanoda begged Tetsuya to stop.

"Rock in your shoe, Waka?"

Kasanoda waved in place of an answer, because he was yawning too hard to say anything. "Just need a break. I didn't get as much sleep last night as you did."

Considering he hardly got any himself, Tetsuya could sympathize.

"Do you mind if I run ahead and see if there's a place nearby we can get a drink or something?" he suggested. "I mean, unless you want me to stay with you, that is. Otherwise, I figured, you could try to catch a few z's—"

"A little cat nap would go a long way right now," Kasanoda said, taking a seat on a big rock on the side of the road. "Go ahead, if that's what you want to do. You don't have to worry about me."

"Okay, if you're sure. Because I'll be right back—"

"That's fine. I'll be here."

That was all the reassurance Tetsuya needed. He headed off. No sooner had he disappeared around the bend then the calm of nature and the quiet of the empty road made Kasanoda's eyelids start to feel very heavy.

He had just begun to drift off when he heard, as though out of a dream, a soft singing coming toward him from the opposite direction.

Kasanoda glanced up, and had to do a double-take to make sure he wasn't actually sleeping. A flock of high school-age girls was singing as they skipped down the road toward him, and they made Kasanoda wonder if he had woken up back in the twenty-first century, because they were all dressed in modern clothing. Somewhat. Some of them had the FRUiTS look going on, and there was even an orange-tanned, bleached-blond _ganguro_ among them who looked alarmingly familiar, but most were wearing the frilly Victorian, grown-up doll clothes characteristic of the Elegant Gothic Lolita style.

When they saw Kasanoda sitting on the rock on the side of the road, they stopped in their tracks as one, ran up to him, curtsied, and inquired in unison, "_Who goes there?_"

Kasanoda leaped to his feet, bent his knees, bowed his head, and stuck his arm right back. "It is I, called Kasanoda Ritsu!" he said in a loud, gruff voice.

The girls' faces fell as they stood back up, moaning disappointedly.

Kasanoda straightened himself up as well. "Why? Who are you guys?"

"We're Dungeon Master Umeboshi's Pleasure Squad!" one of the girls cheerily proclaimed, followed by another round of "Dungeon Master Umeboshi's pleasure is our pleasure too-o-o-o," which was the tune they had been singing on the road.

"Okay. Cool. Er, and who is this Dragon Mister Umeboshi?"

At Kasanoda's innocent question, the girls all stopped and stared. More than a few mouths fell open in shock, and one of the girls even lost her Miffy backpack.

The girls exchanged incredulous glances. "_Who is Dungeon Master Umeboshi?_"

"Dungeon Master Umeboshi is only the most powerful, most handsome level-nine wizard in these parts," said the _ganguro_. "That's his MyPage right there."

And she pointed to a wooden sign hanging on the tree underneath which Kasanoda had inadvertently been sitting.

It did in fact look like a MyPage posting, except for the very obvious fact that it was written into a piece of wood. A portrait of a good-looking, aristocratic-looking young man with chin-length fair hair and a gentle smile had been tacked onto the bottom of it. Kasanoda thought he looked vaguely familiar.

"He's so dreamy," one of the lolita girls sighed.

"Thanks to Dungeon Master Umeboshi," one of the FRUiTS chimed in, "our village had a bumper crop this year."

"And thanks to Dungeon Master Umeboshi," the _ganguro_ said in a raspy voice with way too much enthusiasm, "I lost eight kilos!"

"He is, he is a wonderful wiz, if ever a wiz there was," a girl wearing a black Victorian dress and bonnet said in a timid voice, prompting her friends to squeal amongst themselves that that was _so_ like Dungeon Master Umeboshi and that he would just love it to death, before they burst into fits of giggles and high-fives.

Kasanoda rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment for them. "This Umeboshi sounds like some guy."

"Damn right, he is!" said the _ganguro_. "Only problem is, he was supposed to meet us here. . . ."

"Hey, maybe you can help us find him!" one of the lolita girls suggested, to which the rest of them nodded violently like a chain reaction of bobble-head dolls.

Kasanoda could not have very well said no after that. But he didn't even have a chance to answer, because the next moment he was being swept away by the whole school of FRUiTS and lolita girls.

Somewhere along the way they managed to slip a spare frock over his uniform trousers. Not that Kasanoda really remembered it happening, nor did he particularly care. He could not remember exactly where along the road he dropped his inhibitions either, but it was strangely freeing to flounce along with a whole bunch of floozies who were all really supportive of that look for him, singing "Dungeon Master Umeboshi's pleasure is our pleasure too-o-o-o!" all the way.

They bounced around taking emo pictures of one another with their cell phones next to old mile posts and weird tree trunks, then settled down to debate the merits of domesticity and the proper usage of plaid, and shared their Visual Kei music with him while they made little yarn voodoo dolls and dandelion chains—which Kasanoda actually found strangely enjoyable, seeing as it gave him something to do with his hands. Perhaps it was being surrounded by men who were rather obsessed with machismo his entire life that made the whole experience feel so freeing.

"What the. . . . _Waka?_"

Kasanoda spun as he noticed the shadow descend over their little circle. He jumped up from his seat on the grass, bent his knees—remembering his modesty just after the fact, despite that he still had his trousers on under the frilly skirt—put out a hand, and said in his manliest voice, "_Who goes there?_"

Tetsuya was too flabbergasted to answer. All he could do was stand and stare, open-mouthed, at Kasanoda.

Kasanoda straightened up and turned to see the FRUiTS and EGL girls all staring back at the newcomer in what he mistakenly thought must be the normal amount of apprehension toward strangers.

"It's okay," he assured them, going over to grab Tetsuya's sleeve, "he's a friend. This is Tetsuya, my traveling buddy. Hey, man, so did you find a place we can get a decent meal—"

"Forget that, what the hell is _this_?" Tetsuya finally found his voice, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the frilly dress. "Who did this to you, Waka—why do you look like a Center Guy?"

Kasanoda recovered his manly pride then—and remembered the tiny top hat someone had put on his head, which he quickly pulled off with a snap of elastic. Which still did nothing to fix the main problem of the black, lacy skirt sticking out in almost a foot's radius all around him. "I know, I know. It's stupid—"

"No! That's not what I meant at all—"

Tetsuya blushed and both of them immediately looked away from each other.

"Er, I mean, it's _girly_," Tetsuya tried again, trying not to look at the young master even though he really wanted to commit this to memory, weird as it made him feel, "but it's not _ba_— I mean, it's _different_. . . ."

"I just did it as a joke," Kasanoda said in a tiny voice, "you know—"

"Oh, of course! No, I mean, what else would it be? It's not like a . . . like a hobby or anything . . ."

"They forced me into it. Really, I just did it for the chicks. 'Cause, you know, I'm secure in my masculinity like that. . . ."

Speaking of which, the girls Kasanoda had come with, who had been all abuzz with excitement just moments ago, had gone strangely quiet and were suddenly all too interested in the hems of their frocks. "Hey. What's gotten into you guys anyway?"

"Your hair's really pretty," one of the FRUiTS managed in a tiny voice. "Is it real?"

Kasanoda started. "Huh? Oh, Tetsuya, I think she means you."

"Me? Why? Dude, isn't that the _yamanba_ we caught cheating at the goldfish game last summer—"

Kasanoda elbowed him.

"Um, yeah," Tetsuya answered stonily, "I grew it out in high school."

This answer prompted a brief fit of giggling and stifled squealing in a frequency too high for the boys to really make any sense out of.

"Um," one of the lolita girls mumbled shyly, twisting a curl around her finger, "do you have a steady?"

The two boys exchanged confused glances. Nor was Tetsuya the only one feeling the pressure under their coy glances and bashful smiles. However, he must have been aware that he did cut just the kind of rakish, angsty figure that would appeal to their sensibilities, what with his hanging sweater, Shinsengumi hairstyle, and random Band-aid. It was just that now he knew a little what it was like to be a fillet mignon.

He gulped.

"So anyway! Waka. I met this guy on the road and he gave me directions to some great places to eat in the area. Ain't that right?"

Tetsuya said that last part over his shoulder, whereupon Kasanoda looked back to see a small, dark figure of a young man standing about twenty paces away in the tall grass, dressed in long underwear and for some unknown reason wearing a sock on one hand. He was hunched underneath a ratty blanket, and was holding an old, weather-beaten, holey umbrella over his head.

"Hey, come on over!" Tetsuya waved to him. He added as an aside to Kasanoda, "Poor sod got mobbed on the road before I met up with him. Said it was by some demon-possessed gimp, but I'm pretty sure it was those twins. Took everything including the guy's wig, and he's terrified of sunlight. He actually made a new one out of hanging moss, if you can believe that, which is pretty ingenious if you don't think about all the bugs that were probably living in it—"

"Wait a second. Afraid of sunlight. That sounds kinda familiar. . . ."

"Yeah, well, you don't want to know how much convincing it took to get him to crawl out from that hollowed log."

"What's with the sock—"

"Yeah, no, really it's best not to ask. Hey!" Tetsuya called out when the guy still refused to come any closer to them than twenty paces. By this time, the girls were curious as to what had distracted the attention of _their_ center of attention, and craned their necks to see who it was. "We're not gonna bite," Tetsuya tried when the young man shook his head violently. "Come on over and meet everyone. Say, what'd you say your name was again?"

The young man bit his lip, took a deep breath, and mumbled something they couldn't quite catch.

"What? We couldn't quite catch that."

"N-Nekowara Umeboshi," the young man stammered, pulling the umbrella lower over himself.

"Nekowara? Like the place we just left?" Having wormed halfway back out of his dress, Kasanoda started. "Wait. _Umeboshi?_

"Hey!" he said to the girls—who suddenly looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but there. "Isn't that the guy you've been waiting for, Whatsit Master Umeboshi? Well, come on, let's hear that song you guys have been rehearsing! And a one, and a two. . . ."

He got nothing.

Kasanoda deflated. "What's the matter with you guys? Cat got your tongue?"

Tetsuya winced at the pun. "Oh, Waka. . . ."

Needless to say, some ten minutes later found the gaggle of girls skipping behind the two boys singing, "Tetsuya's pleasure is our pleasure too-o-o-o!"

And the young man in question could feel a migraine steadily coming on as the refrain was repeated, and repeated, and repeated. . . .

"I can't stand it any more, Waka!" he told Kasanoda between gritted teeth.

"So they like you. They think you're hot. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? You wanna trade places with me, be my guest." Tetsuya bit back an f-bomb. "What did I do to deserve this, huh? I swear, I'm gonna snap if I have to hear that stupid 'Tetsuya's pleasure is our pleasure' one more freakin' time—"

As though on cue, it started up again.

"Shut up!" Tetsuya rounded on them. "What the hell's wrong with you all, huh? Don't you have anything better to do?"

Instead of scaring them off, however, the girls just bunched up and fawned over how cute he looked when he was angry. Tetsuya remembered to take deep breaths.

Which was when Kasanoda got a brilliant idea. While Tetsuya was still fuming, he pulled the band right off the other's ponytail, making Tetsuya jump and clamp a self-conscious hand around his loose hair.

"Hey, check it out!" Kasanoda said, waving the rubber band around.

The girls stopped in their tracks, following it hungrily with their eyes like dogs watching a bone.

"Oh my god, it touched Tetsuya's hair!" Kasanoda squealed in a rather accurate impression of them, enjoying his newfound power way too much. "Maybe he even _slept_ in it!"

"Cut that out, Waka! Seriously. I need that back!"

"Oh, oh . . ." Kasanoda loaded the rubber band onto his fingers like a slingshot and let it rip. It flew over the girls' heads and a lot farther than Kasanoda had thought possible, disappearing somewhere into the woods. "Oh my gosh, where did it go?"

He might as well have announced a nail art giveaway on the corner of Omotesando. The girls spun and took off after the rubber band like one creature, and Umeboshi barely made it out of the way with his life as he screamed "Stampede!" and clutched his tattered umbrella close.

That was Kasanoda and Tetsuya's cue to get the hell out of there.

While the girls were busy hunting for the latter's hair tie, they took off in the other direction, sprinting down the road as though a herd of elephants was hot on their heels. They didn't stop until they reached the safety of the trees again and they could no longer hear the girls behind them, a terrified Umeboshi joining them a few seconds later—upon which he promptly collapsed and lay quite still in front of them.

Still giddy from the chase, Tetsuya couldn't quite help his laugh. "Is he dead?"

"Yes," came the muffled response from the heap on the ground.

"Hey, what the heck happened?" Kasanoda wanted to know as the other pushed himself back up. "Wasn't that _your_ pleasure squad back there?"

"Yes, well, you see, I never actually met any of them before. I guess my fine reputation dost precede me." But even as Umeboshi said so, there was a sad irony in his tone of voice. "Here." He handed Tetsuya what looked like a twisted paper clip.

Which Tetsuya wound around his hair. "Thanks. That's just what I needed."

"See? And that's just what I'm here for. Mr Johnny-on-the-spot."

"I know you're trying to strike out on your own and all, but, you know, you really oughtta go home once in a while," Kasanoda told him. "Your little sister's worried sick about you."

Umeboshi started and looked up at him. "Really?"

"And your maid and secretary miss you, too."

His supposed fan club may have been put off by his downtrodden appearance, but Kasanoda could see there was still something of that handsome, honest-faced boy on the Edo-period MyPage post, behind the dirt and the hanging-moss wig.

"I suppose you're right," he said. "For so long have I been trying to make a name for myself, I lost sight of that most basic of truths, that moderation is the best approach to all things—even when it comes to the forces of darkness that have served me so well."

"Er, yeah," Kasanoda said, having seen how much good said forces had done him. "Like you said."

Umeboshi put out a frail hand—the one not covered by an old sock—which neither of the other two really wanted to shake now.

"Thank you," he said nonetheless. "I shan't forget our meeting. May the demon-cat god of my ancestors bless you both!"

Kasanoda and Tetsuya couldn't figure out if that was a good thing or not, but thought it best not to ask.


	10. TANSTAAFL

The first thing the two travelers did when they arrived in the next town was scope out a good place to eat. Both of their stomachs were growling like crazy, and it was all they could do to remember Nekowara Umeboshi's advice and not rush toward the first scent of roasting meat.

Kasanoda spotted a shop that specialized in grilled eel, and as soon as the two got to thinking how long it had been since they'd had eel fresh off the grill, their minds were settled and could not be changed.

"Delicious!" Tetsuya practically sang around a mouthful of the stuff. "I could eat eel for the rest of my life!"

"I'd forgotten how good it is," Kasanoda agreed. Even he had a smile on his stuffed face that was quite unusual for him. "M-m, nothing goes with walking through the Edo period like grilled eel."

Undoubtedly, that was part of the reason the two of them had decided to buy six full skewers' worth of grilled eel, each, because if they had been in their right, not nutrient-deprived minds, they would have realized that that was much more eel than they could eat. For the meantime, however, they were in heaven, gobbling down their lunches and laughing with the aproned shop girls who had to make frequent passes to refill their cups of barley tea.

Because they didn't have eyes for anything but filling their stomachs—and all would agree the former were at the moment too big for the latter—the two failed to take any notice of the primly-dressed figure of a young lady who sat on the bench across from theirs. In any case, the veil she wore would have prevented most anyone from noticing how keenly she was listening to every sound—even every undignified slurp—that came from the duo's bench.

Not ten minutes had passed before Tetsuya started looking a little green around the gills. "I'll never eat eel again," he mumbled as he ever so carefully contemplated his next bite.

Kasanoda couldn't reply. He was concentrating too hard on keeping it all down.

"We shouldn't have ordered so much. What are we going to do with all these leftovers, Waka? We can't take them with us."

"Even if we did, I wouldn't touch them."

Tetsuya sighed. "What a waste of perfectly good eel."

Kasanoda put a hand over his mouth and waited for the nausea to pass.

To add insult to injury, that was when the shop girl cheerfully brought them the total. "Twelve hundred coppers for the eel and five for the tea? What, you mean each?" Tetsuya repeated back. He glanced helplessly at the young master. "How many yen is that?"

Kasanoda dug around in his pocket. He flicked the coins around in his palm for a minute in indecision before asking the girl, "Can we have a moment to figure this out?"

"It sounded like a lot, Waka," Tetsuya said after she'd left. "Do we have enough?"

"I think so. I'm not really sure what the exchange rate is, but even the few hundred yen we have in pocket change should still last us a few days. As long as we're a little more careful about our spending."

"If only Edo people used paper money."

"Or took Amex."

"No one takes Amex, Waka."

"Then I guess the diner's club card is out too, huh? If this keeps up, we're going to have to get Edo-period jobs just to eat."

That was when the conversation at the bench next to them happened to reach their ears.

"Five hundred coppers?" the young lady in the veil was saying to the shop girl. "No, no, that's _much_ too dear! You must bring the price down a little. What's that? Yes, I know how much I ordered, but the quality of the meal did not nearly stand up to the quantity. The eel was much too tough. Are you sure it was fresh? I could practically taste the worms. And don't get me started on the tepid tea!"

As she went on to propound on the excellence of the cuisine in the finest inns in Edo, the two could not help but listen in awe. She spoke calmly enough, but there was a threat in her gentle voice as veiled as her face and far more dangerous.

Then she turned to appeal to Kasanoda and Tetsuya.

"These two gentlemen will corroborate, won't you?" she said to them, sweetly; and even though the two could not see her face except vaguely, they didn't think it very wise to contradict her either as she was obviously someone of some importance. "Look at this one here." She tilted her head in Tetsuya's direction. "He looks to be on his death bed—to say nothing of the truly horrendous state of his friend. By the looks of him I'd say he's already died and come back for his revenge. Frightening."

Kasanoda resented that. He didn't feel _that_ bad.

"I'm sorry, milady!" the shop girl said, bowing profusely to the young lady. "If our service has really been that unsatisfactory, then for you, we will cut the price in half."

"In half? Do you even know who I _am_? I will not pay a single copper for food not fit for my dog, to say nothing of this noble palate, and these gentlemen will pay no more than five hundred coppers for what they've eaten. Total."

The girl found she had no choice but to relent, and went all but running back to the shop's owner, bowing profusely the whole way. Kasanoda had to admit he felt more than a little sorry for her, but at the same time he couldn't very well complain about paying so little for such a big lunch—which he had to admit did feel like a mistake now in more ways than one.

"Wow, thanks, lady," Tetsuya said to the young woman, who looked quite pleased with herself as she slowly lifted her veil.

She made a dainty little snort, as though she found Tetsuya's words to be charming in a quaint sort of way. "It was no problem at all. I could not help but overhear as I was sitting here minding my own business that the two of you are traveling on a limited budget, and when I realized that, I could not very well in good conscience stand by and say nothing while you were swindled out of it by this establishment and their outrageous prices. There are so many people eager to prey on hapless travelers these days, you know, a person must have her wits about her at all times."

She was about Kasanoda's age and rather pretty, with fair features and a way of looking down her nose at them that was, for one reason or another, near impossible to resist.

"I'm Kasanoda Ritsu," the young master said, "and this is my friend Tetsuya. We're on our way to Ise."

"You can call me her highness, the Lady Misha," said the young woman. "Say, since it appears you gentlemen might be in need of some extra money on your travels and I happen to be going in the same direction, how would you like to work for me?"

"Uh, okay," Kasanoda volunteered instantly.

"Wait a second, Waka. Don't you think we should think about this?"

"Why? We're going the same way. And, after all, she did get us out of that hefty bill."

Tetsuya shrugged. That part was true. And he knew enough to know you don't bite the hand that feeds you. But there was something about Lady Misha that reminded him of an old movie he'd seen long ago, something that had to do with the ghost of a woman who fed on men's souls.

Oh well. The resemblance couldn't have been anything more than a coincidence.

"Now, then." Lady Misha clapped her hands and rose. "Since you two will be my new retainers, as a first order of business you can carry my baggage for me to the next town, and find me a horse or palanquin to ride. The road dost do horrors to my delicate feet."

Kasanoda and Tetsuya saluted. "Er, what about the fare?"

"I'll pay you back plus some when we get to the next town," she said, and even if the other two had their doubts, they couldn't very well refuse.

So, with backs loaded down with the young lady's luggage, and dragging more of it behind, and she sitting prim and proper on a courier's horse, the four trudged down the highway.

It wasn't long before the two young men were cursing the nice, bright summer day they had found so enjoyable just that morning, and it certainly didn't help that every step of the way Lady Misha had to bemoan that they were making poor time, and that they ought to step up the pace so that _she_ could get out of the sun, and that the horse's back was too bowed, they had been charged too much for an old nag that felt like it was going to keel over at any moment, and that it would have been much better to ride by elephant, as she had once had the pleasure of doing in the capital.

"An elephant, huh?" Tetsuya groaned, huffing under the weight of a kimono chest. "I hear their fins are really tasty."

"Of course," came the matter-of-fact answer. "But I'm sure the delicate flavor would be wasted on common palates like yours."

That was it. Tetsuya had had enough of her bull, and it was all he could do not to throw the suitcases down right there in the middle of the road and tell this so-called lady where she could stick them.

In fact, it was a look from Kasanoda that stopped him from doing just that.

"Can I ask, milady," he said, with such remarkable calm that Tetsuya was amazed, "what happened to your previous retainers?"

"They were incredibly impious and impertinent, and so I had no choice but to let them go."

"Yeah, right," Tetsuya said under his breath. "They probably ran for the hills as soon as she fell asleep."

It felt like forever and a day had passed before they reached the next town, and with all the inn girls standing by the doors bidding travelers to come on in, Kasanoda and Tetsuya were close to fainting with relief.

Not just any old inn would do for Lady Misha, however, and even after she had finally settled on one, she made a big fuss about them not having the delicacies she had been craving on the way here in season. "In Edo, we can get anything we want at any time of the year," she told the fuming innkeep. "But you've probably never been able to afford to go there, so I suppose I shouldn't expect you to know any better."

Kasanoda and Tetsuya, however, were a little unsure whether they should even be touching such a luxurious spread.

"Er, your highness is going to pay for all this, right?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to put up the money up-front, as I'm traveling on a line of credit. But as soon as we reach our final destination I will pay you both back in full. Plus a handsome bonus for each of you, of course."

But the two young men were finding it increasingly difficult to believe her. And even if she was telling the truth, neither of them really wanted to travel all the way to Ise with her anyway, even if by some miracle their pocket change held out that long—which it wouldn't, at the rate she was spending it.

"You're the son of a boss, for crying out loud," Tetsuya whispered later that night after the young lady had gone to bed. "You shouldn't have to take this shit from a spoiled brat like her, you're better than that, Waka. She's horrible!"

"Yeah, but we've already spent a lot of our pocket money because of her," Kasanoda said.

"And you think she's really going to pay us back? She only says that when she thinks we're going to try and cut and run on her. The gall of that woman, warning us about swindlers . . . She's one herself!"

Kasanoda opened his mouth to defend her, but just then the door of their room slid open and the two fell silent, pretending to be asleep.

It was Lady Misha, who was ever so quietly making a beeline for the two young men's clothing. Some thief she would make, she didn't even bother to check and see if they were asleep before she started rooting around in Kasanoda's folded trousers.

"Now, where does he keep it?" she was even murmuring to herself. If this was her idea of stealth, it was really pathetic. "What a curious bit of clothing! Where does one keep their coin purse?"

That was about when she unintentionally upended the trousers by their legs, and not only did Kasanoda's wallet and cellphone fall out of the pockets, but all the loose change as well.

Kasanoda and Tetsuya jumped up, and the young lady gasped.

"A-ha! Don't you feel ashamed now? We've caught you red-handed!"

But it might have had something to do with their jumping up around her in only their underwear, too.

She had initially made to snatch up the coins that had fallen out of Kasanoda's trousers, but now she covered her face her in her sleeves and bawled. It kind of took the wind out of the young men's sails.

"Are you going to have me arrested?" Lady Misha wailed.

Kasanoda and Tetsuya exchanged glances. "Well, we hadn't really given it that much thought—"

"Why not?"

They both started. Was it their imagination, or did she sound disappointed? "You want us to call the cops?"

"Why not? I've been absolutely horrid to you both, making you carry my luggage and pay for everything. I tried to _rob_ you! Don't you want to go and complain of me?"

They kind of did. But at the same time, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure something was wrong with this young lady. Before long, while the young men were putting their clothes back on, they got the story out of her.

"When my big brother became governor of our province, he thought it would be a nice present to send me on a pilgrimage to Ise. I wanted to tell him I didn't want to go, I hate the ocean almost as much as I hate to travel, but I couldn't very well tell him I hated his 'gift'. So, I figured, if I made enough trouble for myself on the way there, he'd have no choice but to send someone to retrieve me. So I made life so difficult for my servants that they up and left me, and then I went on a shopping spree hoping word of my reckless spending would get back to my brother, but all that happened was that I found myself still stuck on the road with no servants and no money."

"And now you're using us the same way?" Kasanoda said. "That's some weird logic, lady."

Lady Misha launched herself at them suddenly with an intensity that startled them both. "Doesn't it make you angry? Don't you want to turn me in?"

"No, we just want our money back!" said Tetsuya.

"Oh, but I do intend to repay you! When we reach Ise, of course—"

"Yeah, yeah, we're not falling for that one again."

Nor did they need to, for it was at that very moment that a knock came at the door and a voice that did not belong to the innkeeper called out, "Lady Misha?"

She flung open the door to find a governor's guard waiting on the other side. "By order of your brother the governor, we've come to take you back before you can squander any more of your family's stipend or honor—"

The rest was lost in her squeal of happiness. It was a strange thing for the two sons of yakuza bosses to see, a noblewoman ecstatic about how much shame she had brought herself, but it wasn't as though they hadn't seen stranger in the last few days. They were, after all, in the Edo period.

That was when they packed up their few things and left out the back door.

"Argh! And we're out more money than we were before, with nothing to show for it!" Tetsuya grumbled as they departed.

But neither of them was too keen on waiting to see if any sort of reward would materialize out of this, just in case she left them to pay the inn's bill too.


	11. Strawberry fields forever

After the incident with the mooching young lady, our two travelers came to the realization pretty quick that they had to be especially frugal with the remainder of their pocket money if they were going to make it to Ise. They considered pawning some of their belongings for some extra dough, but other than the clothes on their backs they didn't have much to begin with, let alone anything people from two hundred years in the past would want, such as a cell phone with a dying battery and no reception. Consequently, they determined they only had enough to spare for lunch on a couple of rice cakes, which kept them satisfied, oh, for about as long as it took to finish the things.

Presently the duo arrived in the Shizuoka area, where Mt Fuji loomed large over the wide, open plains of the countryside. The boys might have been beginning to get used to life on the road Edo style, but they still missed the convenience of the twenty-first century on long stretches of road like this, particularly the convenience of not having to go more than one hundred meters in any direction without coming across a vending machine, and all the refreshingly cool drinks inside.

They began to think they were wishing so hard they were hallucinating when they crested the hill to find a strawberry field laid out below them. The straight rows ran out so far they couldn't see the end of them, and each plant was laden with fat, red berries that glistened in the sun.

"It's got to be a mirage or a dream or something," Tetsuya said, staring, mouth agape, at all the goodness around them.

Because he was staring, he wasn't paying the best attention to where he was going. When the young master stopped abruptly in front of him, he ran into Kasanoda's back.

But Kasanoda hardly noticed. He was too busy staring himself.

"Yeah. A dream. . . . Tetsuya, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

It went without saying. The two only needed to exchange a look, then both took off down the hill for the strawberry field. Both were so thrilled with their discovery that they were too busy laughing at their good fortune and chasing one another down the rows between the berries that they couldn't be bothered to stop and pick any.

Then, sitting smack-dab in the center of the field and seeming to have risen up out of nowhere, they came upon a wrought-iron patio set with seating for two. Kasanoda and Tetsuya could hardly believe their eyes, and not because there was a whole little patio built up around it, complete with a tiled floor and sculpted potted plants and an arbor of bougainvillea, and smooth accordion music emanating from some unknown location, all sitting mysteriously in the center of a monstrous strawberry field. No, their eyes were drawn to the table itself, which was all but overflowing with delicious cakes and pastries and sweet drinks of all sizes and varieties—indeed, anything that one could imagine could be made out of strawberries was represented there, and some things neither of them had ever imagined. It was a veritable hanging garden of strawberry desserts.

It was too good to be true. But the tile felt real under their feet; and when they waved their hands over the table, it didn't dissipate like a mirage. So it wasn't a hunger hallucination. Tetsuya's stomach was suddenly growling like the MGM lion at the idea that this spread was actually real. And, seeing as there was no one around to enjoy it but the two of them, he grabbed the back of one of the chairs to pull it away from the table.

Kasanoda grabbed his arm before he could do so. "Wait."

"Why?"

He pointed to a sign sticking up from the center of the table and written in cursive script like a formal place card. It read: _Do not eat by order of Lord Usagizuka no Haninosuke. Violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law._

Despite the threat in its wording, it at least looked to be the most polite warning the two had ever read.

Tetsuya scanned the field all around them. Above the foot-high strawberry vines, they could easily see there was no one in the vicinity. "Come on, Waka. No one's going to know. Besides, there's lots more here than the two of us can eat."

"I don't know. The sign says violators will be prosecuted."

"Yeah? And since when did you start caring about the rules? If we see anyone coming, we'll just make sure to be long gone before they get here."

"But—"

"Take a look, Waka. Do you see anyone around?"

Kasanoda didn't, but that still didn't quell the unease he felt about this whole thing. "No, but—"

"Well, you can starve if you want to, but I'm helping myself."

Kasanoda couldn't really stop him, either. It did look as though the table had just been waiting for the likes of them; and even if his gut instinct was telling him it could be a trap, his gut itself was siding with Tetsuya on this one.

"Pardon the intrusion," Tetsuya said out of force of habit, and reached over the table for a fat, juicy strawberry perched on a whipped cream dollop in the center of a cake—

A blare of sirens made them both jump.

"Stop right there, vile trespassers!"

If they weren't hallucinating before, the two were sure they were now. A traffic cop scooter pulled up fast beside the patio, and a boy who looked to be about ten years old dismounted, wearing an official's jacket and a helmet on his fair head, both of which sported a crest of a rabbit. He pointed his bokken at Tetsuya.

"I hereby arrest you for eating my strawberries, which you have been clearly informed is against the law!"

Tetsuya put his hands up. "But I didn't eat any! I didn't even touch one!"

"But you were gonna. Weren't you?"

"Well, I—"

"Which shows intent! That's just as bad! If I hadn't shown up when I did, you would have eaten one for sure! And if you ate one, then you would have eaten ten, and twenty, and then who knows where it would end!"

"But I didn't! Isn't that the whole issue here? Waka, help me out here!"

Kasanoda was paying less than satisfactory attention to their conversation, however. "Haninozuka-sempai? Is that you?" he asked the person trying to place his friend under arrest.

He tilted up the helmet's bill for a better look.

And had his hand swatted away. "What the heck? No touchy! You want me to arrest you, too?"

"Kid, how old _are_ you?" Tetsuya said. "Are your parents around, or—"

"We-e-ell, looks like we got us a couple of real smart-alecks here. I'm eighteen and a half, I'll have you know! And you oughtta watch your language. Do you even know who you're insulting? I am the fourteenth daimyo of—"

"—waving this stick around here— You're going to poke someone's eye out!"

That was when Tetsuya made his fatal mistake, because he grabbed the so-called daimyo's bokken from right out of his hand.

Kasanoda didn't even have time to warn him that might not be the most brilliant idea when the strawberry field around them suddenly sprouted full-grown and fully armed samurai. And the swords they had drawn were not made of wood, and in fact looked very sharp. Tetsuya decided, rather judiciously this time, to hand the bokken back. Slowly.

"Now," said the fourteenth daimyo Haninosuke, "you're going to come back with us nice and quiet, aren't you?"

Tetsuya managed one last defiant, "But I didn't eat _anything_," before he was led away by the daimyo's guard, leaving a stunned Kasanoda staring uselessly after them.

After recovering his shock, he trudged after them. No one paid him any heed.

They took Tetsuya back to their castle and threw him into a prison cell. Apparently people around here relied on the honor system of criminal justice, because the wooden bars were spaced such that if Tetsuya sucked in his stomach really hard, he could probably squeeze between them. Not to mention, they had place him in the same cell as a tanuki and . . .

Tetsuya had to rub his eyes just to make sure. It was the old man they'd met on the road their first morning in the Edo period, the one Kasanoda thought looked like his school's vice principal.

The old man whose oranges they had stolen and replaced with Cup Noodles. Maybe he wouldn't recognize Tetsuya if he looked the other way. . . .

"A newcomer, eh? So, you ate one of the daimyo's strawberries, didn't you?" the old man asked him.

"Um . . . yeah. Well, actually, no, but I wanted to. I was _really_ hungry." Tetsuya tried not to face him full on. "What about you?"

"I picked some thinking they might make a nice stew base, but alas, it was actually quite disgusting, and I was caught and thrown in here. On the whole, though, I believe it was a valuable learning experience."

"What about him?" Tetsuya pointed at the tanuki. "Tanuki don't eat strawberries. They eat yams and mushrooms and stuff."

"Then you should tell that to the daimyo," said the old man.

The tanuki just blinked at Tetsuya with little black, wrongly-accused eyes.

Speaking of the daimyo, he had disappeared sometime before Tetsuya was thrown in the slammer and had not been seen since. His men, though, were rushing about like so many ants, carrying in loads of sweets which they arranged in a gorgeous banquet and divided into servings for all the place settings. Except for the table at the head of the arrangement, that was, which was given whole cakes instead of slices.

Considering they had just come from an arrest—his arrest, Tetsuya thought bitterly, and no less hungry than he was before—they seemed in incredibly good spirits, joking raucously as they sat down to enjoy their dessert.

"What is _this?_"

The laughter suddenly died on all the samurai's lips, their forkloads of cake went uneaten, and they looked up to see the daimyo glaring down at them with tiny hands on his hips. "I thought this was supposed to be a manly dinner party!"

"Uh, um—Forgive us, your lordship!" one of the samurai burst out, pressing his forehead to the floor. "We didn't get the memo! We fail epically!"

"We'll have twenty kilos of the finest stripped beef around brought in immediately, if your lordship will just be patient while the broth boils!"

"And cheese fondue!"

"Fondue isn't manly, you idiot! Are you trying to doom us all? Unless, of course, Lord Haninosuke thinks it is, in which case please allow me to pay for my presumptuousness with my life!"

The samurai were silent in the tensest anticipation as they waited for the little daimyo to unleash his fury on all of them.

Instead, a huge grin broke out on his face, and he practically bubbled as he told them sweetly, "Just kidding, just kidding. Who wants to eat meat, anyway? Let's have cake!"

The samurai let out a collective sigh, laughing nervously. "You had us that time, lordship. No, really, you _really_ had us that time."

While the old man lounged back and contemplated the errors of his strawberry stew, Tetsuya and the tanuki could do nothing but watch helplessly through the bars as the daimyo and his men gorged themselves on cake, and wonder if they had not unknowingly died and been placed in a special corner of hell for gluttons. If he was just going to be arrested one way or another, Tetsuya thought, he should have stuffed his pockets with whatever he could grab while he'd had the chance.

As he was regretting that, he heard a strange, quiet strain of "Ca-caw, ca-caw!"

It sounded like the weirdest crow he had ever heard.

He looked up to see if one had flown in and perched itself in the rafters, but saw the young master there instead, straddling a beam and holding on for his dear life.

"Waka!" It was all Tetsuya could do to contain his excitement. He hissed: "How did you get up there?"

"Shh. Never mind that. I've come to break you out of here."

"Great! But how? This place is swarming with samurai. You'll never make it out alive!"

As if on cue, some of said hardened samurai suddenly started a fan dance, peculiar only in that none of them had been drinking previous to this point.

"Relax. Everything is going to go exactly according to plan."

"What is the plan?"

"I don't know yet." (Tetsuya rubbed the bridge of his nose.) "But trust me on this, Tetsuya, I'm not gonna let you down. It'll be like fish in a barrel."

"Waka, do you even know what that means? Get the keys to the cell, then we can just sneak out while they're eating."

"Good plan! Where are the keys?"

The two and the tanuki scanned the place, then spotted the keys hanging unguarded on a hook on the opposite wall. Unfortunately for Kasanoda, however, he would have to pass right over the daimyo's "manly" party to get it. The three's spirits sank.

But Kasanoda was determined to try it anyway. With Tetsuya cheering him quietly on from inside the prison cell, he scooted himself out over the daimyo's party inch by careful inch. Now was not a great time to remember that he never particularly liked heights. Tetsuya was counting on him. He had to make it. He visualized himself making his way to the key, lifting it from its hook with his wallet chain, and making his way back to the cell, all with perfect ninja stealth. Yeah, that could work.

It might have, too. Unfortunately, Kasanoda never got the chance to find out. His balance shifted and his grip slipped, and all of a sudden, as though it were all happening in slow motion, he was sliding sideways off the beam into thin air.

Thankfully, the mountain of sweets in the middle of the daimyo's party broke his fall.

Everyone froze. Silence fell. The samurai who had gotten up to dance with fans stopped mid-pose and everyone stared at Kasanoda, covered in pound cake and cheesecake and frosting, who could only stare back. As far as humiliation went, this one was definitely higher than Tetsuya catching him in the cat-maid outfit. Higher even than catching Haruhi in her underwear, he decided, and possibly outdone only by a slim margin by the host club's fans thinking he was gay. Somewhere, a fork fell, shattering the tenuous silence, and that was when he realized he had to move to save his own skin. And fast.

"Seize him!" Haninosuke ordered, and a dozen or so samurai rushed forward to apprehend Kasanoda.

Luckily, they slid on the cake and whipped cream as much as he did, and he was able to make it back to the cell before they could lay a finger on him. He grabbed hold of the bars, suddenly thinking he would have been better off on the other side of them.

"Where's the key?" Tetsuya shouted.

"Shit, I forgot!"

"Trying to break your partner in crime out of jail, huh?"

Kasanoda spun to face the daimyo. Somehow the incongruous seriousness in his little voice chilled him like few things in this world had the power to, including the threatening men standing around them.

"Should we have him executed, lordship?" they offered.

Kasanoda gulped. As did Tetsuya, before scooping some cheesecake off the young master's shoulder and putting it in his mouth.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Haninosuke.

"But he ruined your cake, your lordship!"

"I know. But new cakes can be baked. Perhaps we can find some other way of making him pay for his crime."

"Look," Kasanoda said, "I'll pay for the cake or . . . or work in the field or something. I'm pretty good with plants. But let Tetsuya go. He didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't know. He did try to break the law. . . ."

"Come on. I'll do anything you want, just let him out."

That got the daimyo's attention. "Anything, you said?"

"Uh. . . ." Now that Kasanoda actually had a moment to think about it, he wasn't sure that was the word he should have used. All of a sudden, he could think up a lot of things he really wouldn't want to do, even for Tetsuya. Sensing just the nature of his hesitation, Tetsuya punched his shoulder. Kasanoda started. "Yeah, sure. Anything. Do we have a deal?"

Haninosuke thought about that for a long moment, during which time the two travelers, the tanuki, and the dozen or so samurai were left hanging on the edges of their seats.

Then: "Okay. It's a deal. Now, here's what you can do to make this up to me:

"There's this witch who lives in an old run-down hut up in the foothills who's been a real thorn in my side lately. She keeps trying to put a curse on me, and I'm afraid one day she might actually succeed. So far her efforts have been foiled, but she keeps upping the ante to dangerous levels. Like when I was dining in my strawberry patch the other week, just minding my own business with a baker's dozen of tarts, she sicced a swarm of killer bees on me!"

"His lordship barely escaped with his life," one of the samurai said.

"Then last week, she sent me a cake, knowing my fondness for them. It was devil's food cake, too. The kind with the powdered sugar on top and these big, juicy blackberries. Super-delicious. Anyway, it was lucky for me that one of my men got to it first, because if he hadn't, I might have ended up like him!"

He pointed to a samurai lying on his side in the corner, looking up at the ceiling and sighing deeply, completely oblivious to what had happened with Kasanoda and the cake.

"What's wrong with him?"

"No one knows!" said Haninosuke. "He just sits around like that all day, completely unresponsive! It's horrible! And to make matters worse, she's just pulled off her most heinous stunt yet. She's kidnapped Usa-chan!"

"Who's Usa-chan?" said Tetsuya.

"_Who's Usa-chan?_" said an aghast samurai. "Only Lord Haninosuke's most prized possession!"

"Made for him with love by his most august and beloved grandmother, who just passed away last year, may her soul rest in peace! He's irreplaceable!"

Kasanoda found a flier for a missing child shoved in his face. Except instead of a child's picture in the center, there was a drawing of a stuffed rabbit.

Beneath the shortcake stuck to his face, his eyelid twitched. "Let me get this straight. You want me to get your stuffed animal back for you?"

"Yep! Well, no," Haninosuke said. "Not exactly. I want you to go to the witch's place and rescue Usa-chan from her clutches, and then I want you to bring me her writing brush! So no one else can ever be hurt by her evil curses again."

Right, no one except me, thought Kasanoda, who was not entirely looking forward to being sent up there alone. However, "If I do that, I won't be punished and you'll let Tetsuya out of this cell?"

"Sure!"

The daimyo's bubbly grin might not have been the most reassuring, er, reassurance, but it was the best Kasanoda was going to get. Plus, with Tetsuya stuck behind bars, it didn't seem like he had much of a choice. Damn, he thought: all this trouble and neither of them had even had the pleasure of eating a single strawberry.


	12. Just a little bit of magic

So Kasanoda began his trek into the foothills, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a detailed map showing him where to find the witch's hut.

When the woods felt like they were literally closing in around him, he figured he was on the right path. He came to a rather dark clearing, where he saw a cramped little 10x10 foot hut with a moss-covered roof, the path leading up to it littered with huge, dead paulownia leaves that crunched underfoot even though it was summer, and both a fulling block _and_ a well were in the yard. Even though he was feeling a little intimidated by his surroundings, Kasanoda mentally groaned. It was like someone had taken all the most hackneyed cliches for loneliness out of the poetic tradition and threw them all willy-nilly together. There were even crickets in the ratty patches of grass—pretty easy to hear because apparently no birds wanted to even come close to this place.

Nevertheless, it all worked, because it left Kasanoda with a very bad feeling that he shouldn't have come. Even the trees seemed to look down at him malevolently here. He was half expecting to see chicken feet holding up the hut.

He tried clearing his mind of everything but the thought of Tetsuya trapped in the daimyo's cell in the valley down below, hoping that might be what he needed to steel his courage. When that didn't help, he thought of how he had managed to work up the guts to almost confess to Haruhi, in front of dozens of screaming fangirls. This shouldn't have been any different. It wasn't like the witch was going to bake him into a pie or anything. Hell, maybe she wasn't even home, and he could just sneak in and grab the rabbit doll and the writing brush and be on his way—

"Is that a visitor I sense coming up my path?"

A chill ran down Kasanoda's spine when he heard that voice—high and husky—and _he_ was the Human Blizzard. The voice had come from an open shutter door, but the interior was too dark for him to make anything out.

"Er, just got lost, is all," he managed, voice cracking, as he turned to go. Maybe he could bargain with Haninosuke for a lesser sentence. "My mistake. Pardon me."

"Nonsense. It's not every day that I get company up in these parts. Come in, and have a nice, hot cup of tea with me."

Kasanoda gulped. How could a cup of tea sound so _delicious_, and yet so deadly at the same time?

Bracing himself, he stepped up onto the porch and peered through the cracked door, expecting to find some hideous mountain-crone inside with a long nose, a long pipe, and wild white hair.

Instead, there was a young woman around his age seated beneath hanging herbs and chicken bones at a tiny hearth, dressed in jackdaw gray, with silken black hair cut in a princess style and impetuous, heavy-lidded eyes. She might have been beautiful, if she didn't remind Kasanoda exactly of the one person his classmates in 1-D feared even more than him.

"Kanazuki Reiko!"

"Pardon?" said the witch in the midst of pouring him a cup. "Oh, well, never mind. Do have a seat and make yourself at home."

"Uh . . . okay," Kasanoda managed. He sat down rather woodenly, picked up the cup of tea, and held that woodenly as well. It smelled good, but he wasn't sure he should drink it.

The witch took a sip of her own, then narrowed her eyes at him. "It's not poison. I grew these herbs myself."

"I'll take your word for it."

"So." The witch who looked like Kanazuki put down her cup. "Why don't you tell me how you came to be in this neck of the woods. As you can probably guess, I don't have the opportunities to get out much, and I do love to hear stories of others' travels."

"Well. . . ." Kasanoda rubbed the back of his neck. That was precisely the question he didn't want to have to answer; but now that it was asked, he wasn't sure whether it would be best to lie or tell the truth.

He settled for something halfway in between:

"I was on the road to Ise when I ran into a little bit of trouble, and someone suggested I come up here because a witch lives in these parts and might be able to help me."

"Oh! I most certainly can!" Apparently she was excited at the prospect, but her voice and face didn't show it one bit; her whole demeanor seemed just as bleak as before. She started opening drawers in a little chest and pulling out beakers with herbs and shriveled little sundries Kasanoda couldn't and wasn't sure he wanted to identify. "What is it you need? Hundred Years energy draught? Sight of the crow? Cure for athlete's foot?"

"Er, nothing like that." His heart was hammering in anxiety, but he had to risk it. "Actually, I was going to ask if I could borrow some ink and a brush."

The witch stopped, dangling something that looked like a cross between a frog and a pufferfish. "A brush?"

Could she read his mind? Did she know what he intended to do? "Um, yeah. To let my friends know I'm going to be a little late meeting up with them, 'cause, you know, they'll be worried when I don't show up on time."

The witch sobered—apparently; again, it was hard to tell—and asked Kasanoda out of nowhere, "Tell me, gentle traveler, have you ever been in love?"

Kasanoda choked on his tea. What did that have to do with anything?

"Forgive my forwardness," she said. "It's just that I got this vibe from you and felt compelled to ask."

"Erm, yeah. I guess I have." His feelings for Haruhi did constitute something along those lines.

"Then you know what a truly dreadful condition it can be. Worse than any curse or pox known to man, and entirely without cure. I tell you this in confidence, but I have tried every trick in the book to make the apple of mine eye take notice of me, but nothing seems to work. All of this magic to which I have devoted my short life . . . all of it useless compared to the mysteries of persuasion."

"You mean, like, voodoo dolls and writing your name and the name of the person you like on a set of chopsticks," Kasanoda said, "just like you—" Then he caught himself, remembering she wasn't the Kanazuki he knew.

The witch blinked. "I hadn't thought of that. I must try it at once. Surely it will fare better than my other attempts—like that disastrous idea of unleashing a hive of specially bred super-bees to pollinate Lord Haninosuke's beloved strawberry plants. How was I to know they would go for his inherent sweetness instead?"

Kasanoda started. "So, you weren't trying to kill him?"

"Why would I want to kill him? I even made him a delicious devil's food cake, knowing his fondness for them. It took me months to get the recipe right, and even longer to perfect the love potion inside—"

"So _that's_ the culprit!"

"It was supposed to make him fall for me with wild, reckless abandon, but perhaps there was an unintended reaction with the cake batter that rendered it harmless after all."

"Oh, I think it worked pretty well." Just not on the right person.

"But now I have a plan that is sure to succeed, and I shall owe it all to _this_."

And the witch produced out of the shadows of her hut the very stuffed rabbit Kasanoda was supposed to "rescue" and bring back to Haninosuke.

"As soon as I boil these herbs for a full forty-eight hours and give them ample time to cure, then fold them up in a piece of special paper which has written upon it a certain curse, and place that packet inside the stuffed rabbit, then I shall return it anonymously to Lord Haninosuke, upon which he will take it to bed with him at night, and he will have sweet dreams of me and his heart shall be mine at last. There is no way it can fail this time."

Kasanoda could only stare.

"What?" said the witch, holding Usa-chan by an ear. "You think I should soak the whole thing in the solution to be on the safe side? That would at least assure skin contact, and then—"

"No! I mean . . ." Kasanoda sighed. There was no getting around it now. "To tell the truth, it was Haninosuke who sent me here. He even gave me a map. I'm supposed to bring him back his 'Usa-chan' and your writing brush so that you can't put any more curses on him and his guys. He said if I did that, he'd let my friend go who was imprisoned for trying to eat one of his strawberries."

The witch took in this information without so much as a blink, and Kasanoda grew more and more worried for his life by the second. "You're not going to turn me into a gingerbread man or something, are you?"

A long, tense moment passed. Then the witch lowered the rabbit, cradled it on her lap, and said in a slightly smaller voice, "Does Lord Haninosuke really hate me that much?"

"I don't know if he hates you so much as he's scared of you." And that made two of them. "You have to admit, those bees and that poisoned cake didn't make the best impression."

"But I'm a witch. I know no other way to prove my feelings." She put a finger to her lip. "So then, perhaps he doesn't even know how I feel about him."

"Yeah, somehow I don't think he does."

"And perhaps the spirits sent you to me to help me rectify that."

Kasanoda blinked. "Sent _me_?" Why did it always feel like he was in the wrong place at precisely the right time?

"Yes. Did you ever think that perhaps the trouble you fell into had a deeper purpose?" Of course, Kasanoda was pretty sure it had more to do with hunger and an over-protective, slightly paranoid-schizophrenic sweets fiend. "You can have the stupid bunny back. And the magic writing brush. I've got a dozen more, I won't miss it. Just take me with you when you go back to see Lord Haninosuke. I must explain my actions to him in person."

Somehow he ended up agreeing—in any case, he had no desire to be changed into a toad—and the two made their way back down to the valley, with Usa-chan safely under Kasanoda's arm.

"Lordship," he said as the two prostrated themselves before the daimyo, "I have brought Usa-chan back safe and sound from the witch's hut, and I also present you with her magic writing brush." And he laid them both on the floor in front of him.

"Way to go, Waka! I knew you could do it!" Tetsuya cheered him on from his cell.

"Please remember your part of the bargain and let Tetsuya go."

Haninosuke snatched up the stuffed rabbit and held it close. The whole time he watched the witch with a pout and a very suspicious glare. "What's _she_ doing here?"

"Uh, er . . ." Kasanoda began, but thankfully he did not need to explain.

"I wanted to come here myself and clear up the misunderstanding between us, your lordship," the witch said. "It seems that the favors I was trying to do you had some unintended evil effects—"

"You've been trying to curse me!"

"Yes, but only with good curses."

Haninosuke wasn't the only one not following her logic.

"The bees were supposed to be a boon to your crop," the witch said, "and the cake . . . Okay, that one was a tad selfish, but I did spend all that time learning how to bake a cake good enough to satisfy your lordship's high gastronomical standards. What you must understand is that I am a witch. Magic and curses are all I know, and I enjoy doing them. I see now, however, that not everyone feels the same way I do, and above all I don't want Lord Haninosuke to be frightened of me. I hope that we can be on friendly terms, and if that means I must rein in my passion for magic . . . o-on occasion . . . maybe once in a blue moon, or two . . ." It was difficult for the witch to say, but she got through it, swallowing hard. "Then, for Lord Haninosuke, I will give it an effort."

They agreed to a sort of truce, and Haninosuke took Kasanoda back over to the cell where Tetsuya was being held. He was surprised to see his friend actually doing quite well in his absence. The daimyo had kept his prisoners well fed during their incarceration, and Tetsuya still had a little bit of strawberry spongecake left over. Apparently it was all right for prisoners to eat the forbidden fruit if they were already imprisoned for trying to eat it.

"As a show of my thanks for rescuing my Usa-chan back from the witch's clutches," Haninosuke said, "I will uphold my end of the bargain, and let you choose which prisoner gets released."

Kasanoda opened his mouth to choose Tetsuya, as had been his plan from the beginning, but suddenly he found that he couldn't tear his eyes away from the tanuki, and his cute little innocent face.

"What's gonna happen to him?" he asked the daimyo, pointing at the tanuki.

"Waka!"

"Execution at dawn," Haninosuke said matter-of-factly, "for the crime of stealing my strawberries."

"But tanuki eat yams and mushrooms and stuff like that."

"I know, right? But this one's an incorrigible berry thief, and once they develop a taste for strawberries, there's no rehabilitating them. Death is the kindest thing we can do for his lot." (And who had been trying to spoon-feed the little bugger cake through the bars? Tetsuya wanted to remind him, but he kept his mouth shut.) "But I suppose you'll be wanting to hurry up and get your friend out of here!"

Kasanoda thought hard. He glanced between Tetsuya, staring helplessly at him through the bars, and the tanuki, doing the same but with the most irresistible beady black eyes and pudgy little face, and wished it were any other decision but this.

"Waka, you better not choose a woodland animal over me—"

"That one."

The blood drained from Tetsuya's face, because the one the young master was pointing at was the tanuki beside him. He was about to give him an earful, boss's son or not, when Kasanoda pointed at him as well.

"And him. I want you to release them both," he told the daimyo without blinking. "I think that's more than fair. One for the witch's brush, and one for Usa-chan."

Haninosuke hummed. "I don't know. This guy I'm not worried about," he said of Tetsuya, "but releasing a tanuki that's developed a taste for strawberries can be quite dangerous."

"Sorry, but I gotta insist. We'll take him with us to Ise and release him into the wild there. He won't cause you trouble ever again. I promise."

"Very well. I hate the thought of killing something so adorable anyway."

With that, the daimyo opened a door in the cell to let Tetsuya and the tanuki out. The old man stayed put, but he didn't look like that particularly bothered him.

Tetsuya and Kasanoda were so thrilled to be free and able to be on their way again that they nearly hugged. Until Tetsuya remembered he was supposed to be indignant. He hoisted his grocery bag over his shoulder and made a point of looking away.

"Would you really have picked that tanuki over me?"

"Uh . . ." That answer earned Kasanoda a punch in the shoulder. "What, what's with the ingratitude all of a sudden? You're out of that cell, aren't you?"

"That's not the point. What if that ruse of yours hadn't worked?"

"But it did work, didn't it?"

Another punch.

Kasanoda sighed. He just couldn't win. And between Tetsuya's cold shoulder and his own aching one, and the tanuki that had suddenly grafted itself to his leg and didn't want to let go, he was only just starting to understand how truly _long_ of a walk it was going to be to Ise.


	13. One if by land, tanuki if by sea

Tetsuya was just about fit to be tied. It wasn't right, and he never thought it would happen to him, but he was beginning to feel jealous of a tanuki. It wasn't enough that the young master had almost passed him up for it, now the little guy was riding on Kasanoda's shoulder while the two of them had to walk, its eyes half closed in a sleepy state of bliss.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Tetsuya asked him at one point.

"Keep what up?"

"Carrying that thing around. Do you really intend to take it with us all the way to Ise like you told that daimyo?"

Kasanoda gave him a nonchalant sideways look as if to say, why not? As if it just never occurred to him not to.

"It's just using you, is all. It knows you have a weakness for cute little animals and it's just going to milk that for all it's worth. Don't you see that, Waka?"

"It doesn't bother me," Kasanoda said, and it really didn't.

Tetsuya just sighed. The tanuki raised its head from Kasanoda's shoulder and stared at him as though to ask Tetsuya what his problem was, and he glared right back. I know what you're up to, his look said, and the tanuki's replied right back that it didn't care. Ah well, he told himself, if the young master was too enamored to realize he was just a tool being used, it wasn't going to help Tetsuya's case any by complaining about it. When Kasanoda got like this, one had to simply let him figure things out for himself.

"Well, you might want to throw a towel over it or something when we get to the next town."

"Why's that?" Yeah, why's that, the tanuki seemed to say.

"Because somehow I don't think folks will be too eager to help us out if they see we've got a wild animal with us."

They were coming up on the outskirts of a small city, and sure enough, the people who passed by them on their way into town shot them strange looks and gave them a wide berth. After very carefully unhooking its claws from his shirt, Kasanoda took the reluctant tanuki down from his shoulder and slipped it into the bag that held their change of clothes, explaining to it all the while that the situation was only temporary and it was for its own good.

As he watched this play out, Tetsuya had the strong urge to remind the young master that the tanuki wouldn't understand what he was telling it; but something about the scene stopped him from saying anything. Despite the little bit of a grudge he insisted on carrying, it was rather endearing to see the young master behave so patiently toward another living thing, even if that thing weren't as run-of-the-mill as a stray cat or radish sprouts.

At times like that, when the ferociousness of his appearance got smoothed out like wrinkles out of an ironed shirt, Tetsuya couldn't help but be reminded why he fell for Kasanoda's character in the first place; and in light of that, he couldn't very well stay angry. If he reacted this way to every little thing, he would be miserable all the way to Ise, which was the last thing he wanted. So, as they entered town, he resolved to show the young master as much patience as he naturally possessed.

It was a coastal town they arrived at that was intersected by a river, and the wide, gently arced bridge that spanned it was bustling with people going this way and that along the highway. They passed travelers like themselves, courier boys with their horses, folks bringing produce into market or hauling fish carts out, and the occasional gaggle of nuns.

The two were about a quarter of the way over the bridge when they heard the pounding of running feet on the boards behind them, and someone calling, "_Mas-ter Chi-ka!_"

They turned to see what the commotion was just as a gangly teen with messy black hair and sword swinging dangerously at his side went zooming past them.

They weren't the only ones. Most of the other people crossing the river were startled by the noise as well and stopped to watch. But none more so than one particular, fair-haired young samurai further up the bridge, who turned, then started, then balked at the dark blur rushing toward him.

"Master Chika!" the gangly young man shouted again, before he came to a stop beside the young samurai, bending over and trying to catch his breath. "Wait . . . for me. . . ." he managed between pants.

The other, meanwhile, had turned a faint shade of pink. "Do you have to call out like that, with all these people watching? It's embarrassing."

Kasanoda and Tetsuya could not really hear what was said between them from where they were on the bridge. All they could see was a loyal retainer looking out for his somewhat stiff and abashed master, which prompted Tetsuya to remark, "Hey, Waka, don't those guys kinda remind you of us? I mean, aside from the swords, of course."

"You're right. It's kinda uncanny."

That was, until the retainer began to beat his master over the head and shoulders with the grip of his short sword. "What do you mean by running off without me? How am I supposed to look after you if I can't even find you?" His words were easily audible to anyone on the bridge—as were those of the young samurai, who was shielding his head and all but wailing, "Ow, Satori! What the hell? This is your idea of looking after me?"

Needless to say, as they watched, our two travelers were kind of wishing they could take back what they had just said. "How shameful," Tetsuya said awkwardly, more out of a sense of duty than anything. "A servant beating up on his master like that—"

"And in front of all these people, too."

They tried not to stare or show their discomfort too much as they passed by the duo, and shortly forgot all about them.

When they got into town, they sat down outside an inn and ordered tea. They didn't have long to wait before the same young samurai and his retainer from the bridge happened to wander into the same inn and take a seat not far from theirs to sample some of the local eats.

At least the retainer looked like he was enjoying himself, putting down dumpling after dumpling, and cup after cup of tea. His master, on the other hand, just held a red cheek and looked glum.

That was when Kasanoda noticed something about the pair that he hadn't before, something strangely familiar. He scooted his bench closer to them, despite Tetsuya's attempts to tell him to just leave well enough alone, until the other two had no choice but to acknowledge him.

"You know— Sorry if this sounds weird, but you look really familiar."

The young samurai looked up. He said in a nasty voice, "What's it to you?"

Kasanoda blinked.

"You . . . just look like someone I know, is all. No offense. Hey, if you guys are hungry, this other guy we met along the way gave us a whole bunch of cakes and stuff to take with us, and we can't eat it all before it goes bad—"

The young samurai paled when he heard that. "They aren't . . . _strawberry_ cakes, by any chance, are they?"

Kasanoda and Tetsuya exchanged glances. "As a matter of fact, they are."

"How'd you know?"

Instead of answering intelligibly, however, the young samurai pulled at his hair and growled out his rage. Or, at least, squealed it out, like a boiling kettle. Eventually the other two were able to catch: "I just can't ever get away from him, can I? It's maddening, I tell you, _maddening_!"

His retainer tried to calm him down.

Tetsuya tread carefully: "So . . . that's a no on the cake?"

"Get that stuff out of my face! I _hate_ cake! Hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it, _hate it!_ And strawberries—don't get me started on _strawberries_! The only thing I hate worse than cake, is that imbecilic little brat, that— Argh! I can't even say his name, it's so irritating to even think about it!"

A smart smack on the back of the head shut him up right quick. "Is that any way to speak about your older brother, Master Chika? After all he's done for you!" said his retainer.

"Yeah, but . . . do you have to hit so hard?" Chika whined.

Kasanoda snapped his fingers. "_That's_ where I remembered you from! I knew there was a resemblance. I just didn't recognize you without your glasses."

Chika looked up at him, rubbing the back of his head. "Why would I need glasses? I have perfect vision."

"Of course. It's just . . . Well . . . Never mind, it's a long story."

"A really long story," Tetsuya agreed.

The retainer nodded at this and decided to fill them in—much, it seemed, to his master's chagrin. "He probably reminds you of Lord Haninosuke, since I have little doubt that's who gave you all those cakes. (I'll help take one or a few off your hands, since you're offering so nicely, thank you.) There is a pretty strong family resemblance. Everyone says so. He's Usagizuka no Chikazaemon, Lord Haninosuke's younger brother."

"So, people actually did have names like Whoosey-zaemon and Whatsit-nosuke in the Edo period," said Kasanoda, impressed.

"You don't have to tell _everyone_, Satori," Chikazaemon hissed.

"Why not?" said Satori. "The Usagizuka name has a long, proud history—"

"Not anymore, it doesn't! Not thanks to that _brother_ of mine, if you can even call him an Usagizuka! _I_ should have been the one named heir. If it were up to _me_, the Usagizuka family wouldn't be the laughing stock of the bakufu it is now! One generation—that's all it took to undo centuries of greatness. Spending all his time eating cake and pastries, carrying around that stupid bunny of his—he's a disgrace, I tell you, a smear on our manly name— Ow!" He scrunched up and rubbed his shoulder as his retainer cuffed him again. "Why do you _do_ that? And in _public_, of all places!"

"Because he's your brother and you shouldn't disrespect him. Even if he is a little eccentric, he is your elder."

"Yeah, but you don't have to be so _mean_ about it." He even had tears in his eyes, and the two watching rather uncomfortably from the sidelines were fairly sure it wasn't just from the smart of the smack, because he wiped them away real quick when he remembered they had company. He wouldn't have wanted to hear it, but he did sort of resemble the rabbit of his family namesake when he did that. "Who are you guys, anyway?" he asked Kasanoda and Tetsuya, trying to sound tough and failing miserably.

"Kasanoda Ritsu," came one curt reply. "Of the Kanto Kasanoda-gumi."

"Er, just Tetsuya."

"He's your master?" Satori asked.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"We're from the future."

At the other two's look, Tetsuya laughed that off. "Er, he means Edo. It's sort of a joke, er, a figure of speech. You know, like how people say they're 'coming down' from the capital? Well, we 'came back in time' from Edo."

Satori blinked, and Chikazaemon said, "I don't get it."

"Yeah, you two aren't comedians or anything, are you?"

"Uh, no?" said Kasanoda.

"Good."

"Incidentally," Tetsuya was quick to switch gears, "we're on our way to Ise. You wouldn't happen to know—"

"The fastest way is to take a boat across the bay here," said Satori, pointing out toward the water. "You can get back on the Eastern Seaboard Highway on the other side. Otherwise, you have to go all the way around the coast."

Kasanoda fingered the change in his pocket, quickly tallying it up in his head. A boat ride would cost money, but so would a few extra nights at inns, not to mention their meals along the way. "Faster would be better."

"Hey, you can ride with us! We're on our way to the other side of the bay, too. Right, Master Chika?"

Chikazaemon looked pleadingly at his retainer as if to tell him to shut his mouth, but Satori went on obliviously, after polishing off the last few crumbs from a slice of strawberry pound cake: "'Sides, even if you are strange fellows, you know Lord Haninosuke, and that makes you like family!"

"You just want to eat up their cake," Chikazaemon grumbled, but the fear of retribution kept him from saying what was obviously on the tip of his tongue about that young man who unfortunately for him happened to be his older brother.

So it was decided, and after Kasanoda shelled out the fare for the two of them, he and Tetsuya boarded a ferry and settled down in a spot near Chikazaemon and Satori. The tanuki in Kasanoda's bag fidgeted a little bit, but he managed to calm it back down with a few words and a scratch behind the ears. It wasn't too enthusiastic about staying put for a boat ride, but the young master's assurances that it would only be for a little while longer did somehow seem to put the creature at ease. Whatever else people said about him, Kasanoda did have a way with animals.

They shoved off, and pretty soon some buffoon in the back began complaining that he suddenly had to pee. Apparently this was pretty commonplace on ferries like this, because no one but his traveling companion paid any attention.

Besides, Satori was keeping them pretty busy with all sorts of questions he had about their adventures on the road. Kasanoda and Tetsuya weren't sure they really wanted to talk about it with a stranger—there were quite a few questions about their reasons for taking this trip that Tetsuya didn't want even the young master to hear the answers to, let alone a blabber-mouth like this guy—but Satori had a way of wheedling information out of them. Or maybe it was more accurate to say he didn't know when to shut up.

"Lord Haninosuke locked you up when you hadn't even stolen any strawberries?" he asked when they came to that embarrassing episode. "Well, you must have done _something_ to deserve it."

"Why?" said Chikazaemon, covering his head before-hand just to be on the safe side. "Why should they have to have done anything? How many times do I have to tell you that so-called brother of mine is mental?"

"Well, I guess it didn't help any to insult his small stature," Tetsuya thought aloud.

"No, he really is crazy! The patriarchs in our family have always had a reputation for inspiring fear in the hearts of their men, and, true, my brother is no exception—but that's just what irks me! You can't surround yourself with sweets and cute things and expect people to keep taking you seriously!"

"He did seem a little bit schizo," said Kasanoda. "He even threw a tanuki in prison."

"A tanuki?" said Satori. "But they eat yams and stuff, don't they? Why would one of them cross paths with Lord Haninosuke?"

"That's what we said. But I guess once those little guys get a taste for sweet things, there's no curing them. That's why we're taking him with us to Ise."

The other two started.

"You brought a tanuki aboard the ferry?" Chikazaemon hissed. "_This_ ferry?"

Kasanoda couldn't see that there was necessarily anything wrong with that. "It's okay. He's really cool and well-mannered. I've got him sitting tight right here."

And he patted the bag beside him to illustrate. Unfortunately, though, when he did so, Kasanoda felt nothing inside but his and Tetsuya's change of clothes.

The blood drained from his face. He spun and tore open the bag, but no tanuki.

"What's wrong? Seasick?" Tetsuya asked him when he caught sight of the young master's pallor.

Kasanoda pulled him close by the lapels of his jacket.

"Tanuki's gone."

"_What?_"

"Shh!" He looked left and right, but no one seemed to have noticed anything was amiss. Yet. Satori was talking Chikazaemon's ear off about some other subject and didn't seem to have heard them. "He's gotta be around here somewhere," Kasanoda said. "I mean, we're on a boat in the middle of the bay. He couldn't've gone far."

"Waka, you do realize what you just said, don't you? We're on a boat in the middle of the bay . . . _with a wild tanuki on the loose!_"

That did pose a bit of a problem, Kasanoda had to admit. Time was of the essence at a time like this. They had to find that tanuki before someone else did and caused a panic.

The two excused themselves from the samurai and his retainer.

"Why, what's wrong?" said Chikazaemon as though he didn't really care.

"He's not feeling so hot, so we're gonna get up and get some air," Tetsuya told them with a bright smile.

Kasanoda didn't have to try hard to play along; he was already looking about as white as a fish's underbelly.

"If you're gonna spew, do it over the stern," Satori told them as they got up, but Tetsuya just nodded and pulled Kasanoda away. Inside he was cursing the young master for thinking they could just waltz aboard the boat with a wild animal and expect it to stay put: at least one of them should have seen this coming a mile off.

They searched among the other passengers' baggage in such a way as to _try_ not to arouse suspicion, begging someone's pardon profusely when they did, but they couldn't very well say _what_ it was they were looking for.

Unbeknownst to them, the tanuki's paws were already busy on the other side of the ferry.

The couple of passengers enjoying a bottle of warm sake didn't see the furry thief nab the fishcakes wrapped up in plantain leaves they had been saving, until one of them reached back to get them and met with only the wooden floor of the ship. Another, who was taking a short snooze, was bound to be disappointed when he woke up and realized his new straw hat was also gone.

But it did not escape the attention of one bespectacled young priest when he saw a straw hat moving slowly all on its own across the floor of the boat. Not normally a particularly curious person, let alone possessing of anything one might refer to colloquially as guts, he found it strange enough to swallow his fears about possessed hats to lift up the brim and peer underneath.

Kasanoda and Tetsuya were trying to reassure an old woman and her ward that they were not the perverts she had made them out to be before she started beating them with her cane, when said bespectacled young priest suddenly screamed like a girl from the other side of the boat.

They had just enough time to exchange glances before they rushed toward the screaming.

There they found the tanuki, caught in the chin strap of a hat, carrying a handkerchief of fish cakes in his mouth, and looking rather sheepish.

"Holy Amida Buddha, it's a tanuki!" the bespectacled young priest shouted, gripping his heart. "Tanuki on the ferry!"

Kasanoda grabbed the little animal before too many more people could see it, but the damage had been done. In seconds, everyone had jumped to his or her feet and was looking every which way in a panic. The ferry rocked dangerously as most of the passengers hurried to the side farthest away from the tanuki. The owner of the hat demanded it back, and the owners of the cakes wanted monetary retribution. The old woman with the cane looked like she wanted to give all three of them a good thrashing.

"What the hell were you thinking, bringing a wild animal on board?" one of the ferrymen said.

"What if it had bitten milady?" said the old woman with the cane.

"What if it's feral?" someone exclaimed, causing another outburst of panic.

Kasanoda went red in the face.

"He wouldn't bite anyone. He's not dangerous—"

"No, it's just a no-good thief, is all!" There were nods all around in agreement.

"He didn't mean any harm!" Kasanoda said. "He probably just wanted to pay me back for saving him from being put down. I'm sure that's all it is." The tanuki nodded vigorously. "This is all just a big misunderstanding."

"That's one word for it, all right," said the ferryman. "You'll have to throw that thing overboard at once."

"_Huh?_" The tanuki gripped Kasanoda's shirt tighter in its little fists. "But that's not fair!"

"Yeah, isn't there another way?" Even Tetsuya, who had been so eager to get rid of the creature before, didn't want to see the young master's heart get broken like this.

"Either you throw it overboard, or I throw all three of you off this boat! You decide." And that was final. The ferryman folded his arms over his chest.

If he was supposed to cut an intimidating figure, however, it wasn't really working on these two sons of yakuza bosses. Both were tensed for a fight, Kasanoda with his meanest looking face, ready to defend the tanuki at the drop of a hat, Tetsuya ready to defend the young master.

But before a fight could break out, the tanuki dislodged itself from Kasanoda's shirt and sat resignedly down on the edge of the boat. It heaved a little sigh, and looked glumly down at the water. It was clear what it meant to do.

"Don't do it, Tanuki," Kasanoda said. "We'll find a way to get you out of this mess. There has to be a better way."

But this _is_ the best way, the tanuki said. I appreciate everything you've done for me, but it seems I'll only cause you more trouble if I stick around. So, you see, I have to go.

—At least, that was what Kasanoda felt it was trying to say to him as its beady little eyes stared into his.

Before he could do anything to stop it, the tanuki dove into the water and disappeared with a splash.

"Good riddance," the ferryman said, and the other passengers shot the two of them dirty looks as they slowly returned to their seats (except for Satori, who thought the whole thing was a good show, and Chikazaemon, who didn't seem to care one way or another).

None of it registered with Kasanoda. He just stared dumbly at the water, and the fading ripples that they were already leaving behind. It hurt Tetsuya to see how devastated he was.

"Cheer up, Waka," he tried. "I'm sure it's still alive. It's probably on its way to the shore by now, paddling its little heart out."

But he knew even as he said it that was little consolation.

"It's all my fault," Kasanoda muttered. "If I hadn't brought him with us, none of this would have happened."

Tetsuya wanted to remind him that if he hadn't insisted on bringing the tanuki with them, it probably would have been put down, so at least they gave the little guy a fighting chance—but something kept him from actually saying it. Maybe it was because he didn't think it would do any good.

Then again, maybe it was because he was a little surprised himself at how bad he suddenly felt about what had happened to the tanuki—the tanuki whose company he had just a few hours before been resenting. What a bang-up job he was doing serving the young master, Tetsuya thought. At this rate, he'd be lucky if Kasanoda didn't banish him from his side before they got to Ise.


	14. Copyright infringement part II

A day passed since they crossed the bay by ferry and parted ways with Usagizuka no Chikazaemon and his retainer, Satori; and in all that time, Kasanoda continued to wallow silently in his guilt over what happened to the tanuki.

Tetsuya wanted to apologize, but he just couldn't seem to find a way to do it. When he thought about it, it wasn't his fault what had happened—nor was it really the young master's neither—but he couldn't help feeling responsible nonetheless. Like, maybe if he had been a little more accepting of Kasanoda's bond with the tanuki, it wouldn't have gotten into the trouble it did and been forced to jump overboard. At the same time, though, he knew a change in his attitude alone wouldn't have made any difference to the outcome.

"You've gotta stop beating yourself up over it, Waka," he tried once again as they were walking past the storefronts of one town. "I'm sure it knew how to swim and is probably doing just fine now."

That was his way of apologizing, but it didn't seem to matter. The young master didn't seem to have even heard one word of his.

"What you need is a distraction," Tetsuya decided, determined to be optimistic one way or another.

As though on cue, his stomach—which was finding that single bowl of rice a rather insufficient breakfast—chose that moment to let out a loud growl.

"We both need a distraction," he amended. "Hey, look! Edo period comic novels. I bet they're just full of bad old-man gags." And presently he dragged the young master with him into a bookshop and stuck one in his hand. "I've always wondered what it would feel like to hold an actual 'yellow booklet' in my hands. Of course, my calligraphy comprehension has never been very good." This Tetsuya said as he tilted the book this way and that and squinted at the loopy print. "Let that be a lesson to you to stay in school. . . ."

Kasanoda was flipping idly through the one Tetsuya had randomly given him when something he saw made him start.

"I don't believe this," Kasanoda said, passing the book over for Tetsuya to see. "These characters this person is writing about sound just like the host club at school. They even look like them, too—well, I guess as much as they could in Edo-style engravings. . . . But seriously, isn't this copyright infringement or something?"

"What are you talking about?"

"These stories are ripped right from my life, man. It's creepy. Like a doujinshi. I sure would like to meet this person and ask him what the big idea is, this . . ." He looked at the front page. "Hatori Bisco."

"Did I overhear you gentlemen saying something about Hatori Bisco?" said a young lady with impeccably straight hair who happened to also be shopping the racks, pushing up her spectacles.

At this point, the other two knew less about this shady Bisco person than they would have liked, but they weren't about to admit to that. "Oh, nothing," Kasanoda mumbled, flipping through the book. "I was just about to say how I could write his stories for him."

The girl glared at him funny. "You mean _her_, don't you?"

Kasanoda blinked.

But Tetsuya jumped right in. "No, we do mean him."

"Are you talking about the same Hatori Bisco, the comic novel author?"

"Why? Isn't that who _you're_ talking about?"

"She's a woman."

"A-ha! She merely writes as a woman, but she's really a he, who writes with a feminine voice to appeal to a female audience. Like Jane Austen."

"I think you mean George Eliot," Kasanoda whispered.

"No, I'm talking about someone pretending to be a woman."

"George Eliot _was_ a woman."

"See? You're completely missing the point."

The girl's glare became even sharper. "How can you be so sure Hatori Bisco is really a man?"

"Have you ever met Hatori Bisco in person?"

The girl had to admit that she had not.

Tetsuya jabbed his thumb at Kasanoda. "Then I say I know he's a man 'cause _he's_ Hatori Bisco."

Kasanoda started. "Me?"

"Man! I'm sorry, miss. He likes to have a joke or two at his fans' expense, since most folks don't know he's actually a guy, or . . . well, you know what I mean."

"Oh, botheration," the girl said to herself. "It would just figure that the most realistic feminine voice in comic novels today would turn out to actually be a man, wouldn't it? Ah well, I guess it can't be helped if you're really she."

"I am?" Kasanoda said, but Tetsuya elbowed him.

Both had to admit it was a little over the top, but the young woman put her hands on the tops of her thighs and bowed low. "Please forgive me, Bisco-sensei, or whatever your real name is. I came here to wait for you but had been expecting a woman all along. The name is Shoubu Ohana. As you may remember from our many correspondences, you wrote in your last letter that when you came through this town, you would grace me and some of my friends and fellow disciples of yours with your appearance at my house at a luncheon to be held in your honor."

"Of course!" Tetsuya said, before Kasanoda could say anything that might mess it up. "We were looking for you, too, actually, but we didn't know what you looked like."

The girl directed her glare at him this time. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"I'm, ah, I'm Bisco's assistant, Battari Crisco."

"All right," said the girl without batting an eye. "Bisco-sensei, if you will be so kind as to come this way."

As she led the way back to her house, Kasanoda muttered: "'Buttery Crisco'? What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting us a free meal," Tetsuya hissed back. "You can't tell me you aren't as hungry as I am."

"Starving," Kasanoda admitted.

"Then this is a simple matter of survival. All we have to do is pretend to be a couple of authors for a little bit, we entertain some people, and we get to eat all we want. Where's the harm in that?"

But Kasanoda didn't like the looks of this, free food or not. "I don't know. It sounds a little too easy. How many spots have we already landed ourselves in on this trip because we were hungry?"

"This time it can't fail. Look," Tetsuya tried, "you said you could write those stories yourself—you have an 'in' with the host club, you know what goes on there—so how hard can it be to make this stuff up?"

"Hey, you know, maybe you're right."

"Yeah, they'll go nuts."

But what little confidence Tetsuya had managed to inspire all but evaporated when Kasanoda got a load of their dinner party audience, and when their audience got a load of them. They were all young ladies, and none of them looked particularly pleased to see him and Tetsuya.

"Ohana-san, where's Bisco-sensei?" one of the young ladies present asked. Come to think of it, each one of these so-called disciples of Hatori Bisco reminded Kasanoda of someone he had seen patronizing the host club—and after his episodes there, he couldn't exactly forget those faces.

Tetsuya did a double-take as he was sure he had just seen a strand of hair on the back of Shoubu Ohana's head suddenly spring into a curl.

"May I present you ladies with Mr Hatori Bisco," she said coolly enough, however.

Kasanoda coughed into his fist. "Ritsu will do fine. Bisco is a pen name."

"Of course it is. There you have it," Shoubu Ohana said to the disbelieving stares.

"Oh. Er, I guess I was expecting we would be meeting a woman," said one of the young ladies. "No offense, of course."

"None taken. I get that a lot," said Kasanoda.

"But from the voice of your novels, we were so convinced that you were a woman. Only another woman could write with so much insight into the feminine psyche. Only another woman could know with such precision what today's young ladies most want to read."

"That's 'cause wherever he goes, he's always surrounded by chicks," Tetsuya said. He meant well, but by the stares he was receiving, the meaning seemed a little lost on their Edo-era audience. "Er, because he's so sensitive and worldly they can't get enough of his stories. Plus, he had a lot of sisters growing up."

"Well, anyone can see that by his books," another girl said. "Tell me, Bisco-sensei, I'm just dying to read what Sumomo-san is going to do next, think you could give us a little hint? Will he finally confess to Ohatsu? Or will the twins foil him again?"

A dozen eyes snapped to Kasanoda and stayed put. It felt like they were boring holes in his skull, their stares were so intense.

Thankfully, Tetsuya had the wits about him to step in. "All in good time, ladies. But first things first: let's eat, shall we?"

He and Kasanoda made themselves at home at the tables already set up for the guest of honor. Shoubu Ohana did not complain about their forwardness, but she did sit in a rather frosty silence while the two stuffed themselves with all manner of puffs and pastries. The other guests plied them with endless questions as they ate. Like—

"I've always been curious: why the name Bisco?"

"I dunno," Kasanoda said around a crab cake. "I guess 'cause it's like biscotti."

"What's biscotti?"

"It's this hard cookie thing you dip in coffee. I think it's Italian."

"Oh, of course. . . . Um, what's Italian?"

Then Kasanoda remembered they were dealing with people from two hundred years in the past. "Well, Italy, see, it's another country," he tried. "In Europe. Er, far away on the other side of the mainland."

That earned him a chorus of ooh's and ahh's for his worldliness, and he had to bite his tongue before he could automatically explain how he'd never actually been to Italy, and actually knew everything he did about it from _The Godfather II_ and the Olive Garden. Minute by minute he was feeling more and more like a fraud, and he was beginning to think Shoubu Ohana could sense it too, the way she kept peering at him over her glasses and methodically smoothing down her hair. All of a sudden, the stuffed mushrooms weren't settling as well as he would have liked—which was a shame, because they were really delicious.

To tell the truth, Kasanoda didn't know any more about the series he was supposed to have penned than what he had been able to glean so far from this Hatori Bisco's fans. He'd only had a chance to flip through the book at the shop, long enough only to figure out that the story concerned a house of male geisha—like they used to have in the olden days—and their hapless housekeeper, and that somehow they all seemed to fit the same molds as the members of the host club from school.

He knew he had really bitten off more than he could chew when one of the girls said: "I have a request of Bisco-sensei. Would you honor me with a sketch of one of your characters?"

It took a moment for Kasanoda to remember how to swallow. He thought about protesting, but no sooner had the request been made than she was presenting him with a scroll of blank paper.

A brush and ink were graciously—and with uncanny haste—supplied by their host. "Yes, Bisco-sensei, let's see that hand of yours in action."

Brush poised above the paper, Kasanoda swallowed.

Tetsuya leaned over at his hesitation. "What's wrong, Waka? It's just a little sketch."

"_You wanna do it?_" the other gritted through his teeth.

"You kidding? I'm no good at art."

"And you think I am?"

Tetsuya thought about that and shrugged. Maybe he had just pictured the young master as the artistic type; there wasn't really any reason for it. "Just think of those host club guys. You know what they look like."

Taking Tetsuya's advice to heart and trying not to break out in a sweat, Kasanoda thought longer and harder than he ever thought he'd have to about the faces of his upperclassmen Suou and Ohtori. He found to his surprise that he could picture them rather well. Putting their likeness on paper, however, was easier thought of than done, but he managed something that he thought, at least, conveyed a pretty clear impression of their character.

When he held it up, though, the young lady who had requested the drawing looked somewhat disappointed.

"It's supposed to be Suou-sempai and Ohtori-sempai," Kasanoda explained.

"You mean Sumomo-san and Wataridori-san?" their host supplied unenthusiastically.

"Erm, yeah, that's who I meant."

The one who had requested the sketch tried to look grateful. "That's great, but, um, it doesn't look like Bisco-sensei's usual style at all. . . ."

Damn the Edo period and its art style, Kasanoda thought. And why was it so hot in this damn house? "Uh, that's because it's a new style. It's called manga. I just invented it."

"Wow. Isn't he genius?" Tetsuya started a round of applause, which the girls reluctantly joined in after thinking about it.

"Now," said the girl who had requested the sketch, "how about a verse to go with it?"

That's right, Kasanoda thought. These sorts of stories always had some sort of witty, punning poem to go with them. If there was ever a time he wished he could magically disappear, this was it. Glancing over at Shoubu Ohana and her increasingly frizzy hair did not help matters one bit; she was generating enough electricity to shock him back into the twenty-first century all by herself.

"Just write down some Basho or something," Tetsuya whispered.

Kasanoda shot him the nastiest glare he could muster.

Just then, another young woman came bursting in, winded, saying, "Good news, everyone! I just got word that, after an unexpected delay, Hatori Bisco-sensei is finally on her way here!"

"You arrived too late," said Shoubu Ohana. "As you can see, Bisco-sensei has been here all along."

When she gestured in Kasanoda and Tetsuya's direction, the two had the distinct impression that it was with more than just a hint of sarcasm. Her efforts to straighten out her mane were hopelessly in vain now.

"There must be some mistake," said the girl who had just come in. "I don't know who that is, but I just talked to Bisco-sensei a few moments ago. I ran here right away to let you know she was coming."

"And was this Hatori Bisco a man? Because we were recently informed that she is really a he."

"No, she was all woman as far as I can see. Why would anyone say she wasn't?"

Kasanoda's hands shot to his stomach. "Ugh," he groaned, "I don't feel so good."

In fact, the color had drained from his face. That is, all color but those in the pale green spectrum.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to assess the situation. Tetsuya was on his feet in a flash, pulling Kasanoda to his.

"Oh dear," he said, "after all that walking, I think he's eaten too fast for his body to keep up! He's going to be sick for sure. Hold it in a little longer, Sensei, let's get you some fresh air!"

Some of the girls looked concerned, but nobody stopped them as they made for the back door, Tetsuya strapped down with everything they had come in with.

"Good acting back there, Waka!" he said when they had made it outside and shut the door behind them. "Even more convincing than last time. You really did look nauseous."

Kasanoda punched his shoulder. "You idiot, I really _am_ nauseous! We almost got caught in there thanks to you and your thinking with your stomach."

"Well, we didn't, so look at it this way: at least you won't be hungry for a while. And that was pretty good eating, no matter what you say. Don't you think you should thank me?"

From inside the house they heard the Hatori Bisco fans cry out in shock: "An impostor? This is an outrage!" and "They oughtta be locked up for fraud!" and "Quick, I think they went out the back!"

Needless to say, the last thing Kasanoda wanted to do right now was thank him.

"Let's get out of here," the two said at the same time, and made like a tree before anyone could come out and say otherwise.

* * *

_A/n: The bad puns continue. Just in case it's not as clear as Misha/Michelle a few chapters back, the character I've redubbed Shoubu Ohana is supposed to be Jounouchi Ayame, who appears in manga volume 5. Since _ayame_ is a word for "iris" (which Bisco likes to play up with the screentones), I decided to give her Edo double a twist on another word for the flower, _hanashoubu.

_"Yellow booklet" or _kibyoushi_ was just the name for Edo period satirical picture books._


	15. Beware of fox! Scandal at the inn!

"Foxes, you say?"

Tetsuya and Kasanoda exchanged glances, both looking just a little too excited about that prospect for the comfort of the stern old governess they had asked for directions. The lines in her long face, like the knots in an old tree trunk, deepened as her frown pulled down lower and lower.

"That could be kind of fun," said Kasanoda, who was eager to see more wildlife after what happened to the tanuki. "You don't really see them around anymore except for in zoos."

"There's nothing fun about it!" the old governess barked at them. "These foxes aren't to be messed around with. Do you lads understand me? Those are _bewitching_ woods, full of foxes that take human form to trick innocent travelers just like you two. You'll think you're being led to a banquet by beautiful young ladies, when in fact you're walking headlong into a den of filth and misery!"

Tetsuya just laughed, straining her already thin patience.

"That's so quaint! It's like one of those bath houses where you go in and they've recreated, like, a little village festival inside. Eh, Waka?"

"It's no laughing matter! Healthy, grown men have been driven mad in those woods, robbed of their life's savings and dignity or worse! Much better to spend the night here and take off at first light, than to take your chances with the gathering gloom of dusk."

"But all the inns in this town are full," Kasanoda said, ignoring her ominous tone. "Some kind of party for a daimyo or something. I dunno. Anyway, they're all booked up."

"I know someone who can put you up in his barn for the night. Anything but having you lads wandering those woods alone at night."

"Oh, we wouldn't want to put anyone out—"

"Yeah, see, we're kinda hoping to get to Ise as soon as possible. And really, it doesn't sound like it's that much of a walk to the next town. You said so yourself."

The stern old governess fixed them a hard stare. "You want to get yourselves caught by foxes, don't you?"

The other two looked a bit sheepish. "Well, I don't know about all that getting caught stuff, but the possibility of seeing some wild foxes does sound like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of opportunity."

"Yeah, your luck with animals hasn't been so good lately either. This could be just the turn-around you need."

The stern old governess heaved a deep sigh and shook her white head.

"Fine. If you two want to play recklessly with your lives, far be it for to stop you. What do I know, anyway, I'm just an old governess who only raised one impatient, too-trusting-for-his-own-good boy to adulthood. But beware," she told them literally pointedly, "the foxes are subtle creatures, and their tricks are not all that they may seem."

"Do you believe that old woman?" Tetsuya said when they were back on the road and the town fallen behind them. "All that talk about shape-changing foxes. . . . I guess there were superstitious folks like that in the Edo period, too, huh?"

About fifteen minutes into the aforementioned woods, however, they began to see why some would think it was enchanted. The ground was thick with ferns, and with the cooling temperatures a fine mist was already starting to roll in, increasing one's chances of losing track of the road if he weren't paying close attention. To add to that, the air was eerily still, the calls of the birds sounding faint and far off, and little light made it through the tangled branches of the trees. They thought they had had plenty of light left when they left the last town, but even the summer days could end quite abruptly under this canopy. As their light dimmed, the two began to get a bit jumpy—though neither wanted to admit it.

"What was that?" Kasanoda suddenly muttered, going still.

Tetsuya listened carefully. "An insect? I don't know what it is, but I hear something in the trees—"

"Not that. It sounded like a twig snapping. I think we're being followed."

They looked back down the road, but nothing was moving in the low fog. Tetsuya happened to look down at their feet, and sighed. "That's because you stepped on a dry branch, Waka. Jeesh. . . ."

"Oh. Well, thank god that's all it was."

"Look, we can't afford to get paranoid right now. You and I both know these woods are perfectly safe. If they weren't, we'd have seen signs or a detour or something like that, to keep people out."

"Yeah, you're right. What are we getting all excited about?"

As is the way with these things, though, once suspicion and doubt had found a way in, they brought the rest of their friends with them like ants at a picnic. Tetsuya and Kasanoda could feel their hearts leap at every little sound they couldn't immediately place, though neither was ready to say that this might not have been a good idea.

"The fog's getting worse," Kasanoda observed.

Tetsuya was determined to be optimistic.

"We must be getting close to that town the old lady told us was there. How long have we been walking in these woods?"

"I have no idea. But it's getting real dark in here real fast. I wish we'd thought of bringing flashlights when we left home."

Something rustled in the bushes off the side of the road, and Kasanoda put a hand out to stop Tetsuya. "Did you hear that?"

"Maybe it's one of those foxes. I mean, a regular fox, of course, o-or, like, a rabbit or something."

"Hey, Tetsuya? Bears aren't native to Japan, are they?"

Tetsuya racked his brain. "I . . . I don't know!"

He and the young master exchanged glances, but seeing their own irrational fear in one another's eyes made them quickly stifle it. They were fit, mentally sound young men who didn't have any need to be afraid of wildlife. They were just letting that old woman's words get to them, they told themselves.

"H-hey, Waka?" Tetsuya cleared his throat when his voice threatened to crack on him. "I'll race you to the next town."

"Last one there is fox bait!"

With that, both took off down the road at a sprint, not caring anymore if the other knew he was not so secretly terrified of spending another minute in those woods.

The problem with that, though, was that the faster they ran, the harder it was to watch the road, which was full of fallen branches and patches of moss and grass that made it more difficult to tell the difference between the path and the forest floor.

But when Kasanoda heard Tetsuya cry out in front of him, he realized it was in relief. "Look, Waka. A signpost! I think we're almost there."

Kasanoda looked up to see what he was talking about, and felt nothing but air under his feet.

That was the last thing he remembered before everything went black.

Muffled conversation was what roused him back to consciousness some indeterminate amount of time later. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, and slowly the furnishings of a tea house room came into focus, first and foremost among them the table his cheek had been pressed against. He could still feel it on the side of his face, like a big flat spot that wouldn't go away.

Before he could ask himself "Where am I?" the door was thrown open with a rattling snap.

"Have no fear, my gentle ladies: the party has arrived!"

Kasanoda blinked up at the rather loud person who waltzed in, and saw Suou Tamaki blinking down at him.

"Huh? Where are the ladies?"

Kasanoda glanced around him. True enough, he was the only person in the room. Feeling suddenly like a young boy caught on the john with his pants around his ankles, he choked out, "Suou-sempai?"

The young man looked enough like Suou, with the same vacuous expression and blonde hair and princely demeanor. He was even dressed in the fashion sported by the hippest hosts in the Tokyo clubs today (not that Kasanoda had ever actually been to one, but he had been on the Internet), but he had a little black lacquer cap with fake plum blossoms sticking out of it attached to the top of his impeccably styled head with a chinstrap, and was carrying a shamisen.

"Must have been some mistake in booking, my good sir," he said. "Do forgive me, but they neglected to tell me this was a private party, ha-ha. The name is Sumomo (or _Prince_ Sumomo, as my fans prefer to call me), and I will be your master of ceremonies for this evening."

And he bowed with a flourish that made Kasanoda even more uncomfortable, though he had hardly thought that was possible. "Su-sumomo?" Why did that name sound familiar?

"Come on in, guys!" Sumomo called, and pretty soon the rest of the host club was filing into the room.

At least they looked like the host club, albeit carrying drums and dressed in black sexy!business-casual. He recognized Ohtori's bespectacled face, and—

"What? It's just one guy?"

"What is he, some sort of pervert?"

Kasanoda grimaced. He heard the twins coming before he even saw them.

"Now, now," said Sumomo, "is that any way to speak to a paying guest? Surely you must remember that our reputation for the finest in comic entertainment is unrivaled in all of Japan. You can't blame the guy for wanting the best. Why, it is a sign of his excellent taste and breeding that he booked us for the entertainment this evening and not some other gang of charlatans.

"And anyway," he added with a saucy wink that seemed to contradict everything else he had just said, "we never fail to leave our customers _completely_ satisfied."

"Looks like he's already gotten a running start on us, milord!"

The twins laughed and pointed at the flat, red spot on Kasanoda's cheek—though how they could make it out when he was blushing so hard was a mystery.

"Shall I bring in the sake?"

Kasanoda's heart skipped a beat at that familiar voice. No, he told himself, it couldn't be—here of all places—but . . . yes, that sure looked like her, more stunning than he even remembered as she maneuvered her way into the room with a wide, cup-laden tray and tried not to trip over her kimono. "Fujio—"

"Bring it on in, Ohatsu. This poor fellow looks like he could use a drink!"

Kasanoda had to agree, as he ran a shaking hand through his hair. "What the hell am I doing here?"

"Enjoying a hearty round of song, comic adventure, and good old-fashioned ribaldry," said the Ohtori look-alike, reading from a notebook. "At least, that's what we have you down for."

Sumomo snapped open his fan and gestured wildly, nearly knocking the other's glasses off his face. "And do I have a story for you, my friend! Why, just the other day, this gentleman I know approached me in the street . . ."

And he launched into some gossip that Kasanoda wasn't really paying any attention to, because it was at that moment that Ohatsu, who had gotten up to bring him a cup of sake, yelped and pitched forward right into his lap.

"Whoops!" said one of the twins, not at all guiltily. "Gotta watch those big feet, eh, Ohatsu."

Ohatsu grabbed Kasanoda's shoulders to steady herself, putting all her weight on them, but he didn't mind. The faint, feminine scent of Haruhi's shampoo tickled his nostrils when she was this close. "Oh my god," she said, "I'm _so_ sorry about that! Oh, the sake—"

He was wearing it, all right. Ohatsu started to dab it up, and Kasanoda couldn't deny that her touch made him just a little uncomfortable, if in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"I-it's okay," he stammered, grabbing her wrist. "Are you all right?"

"I think so."

She looked up into his eyes, and Kasanoda felt his heart skip a beat. The rest of the room faded out of his peripheral vision, and all he saw were those familiar big, brown eyes, her small lips parted in shock and concern, and hovering just a few centimeters from his.

He woke up to darkness, and the dim outline of Tetsuya's blinking, cross-eyed face right in his own, quickly turning a guilty shade of pink.

"Y-you're awake," Tetsuya said.

Kasanoda didn't like the sound of it. "What are you doing?" he groaned.

"N-n-nothing in particular—"

"Were you trying to kiss me?"

"Wh-_why would I do that?_"

Kasanoda shoved him off and sat up. Way too fast. He nearly fainted again from the head rush, and the subsequent pounding in his brain wasn't helping matters any either. "What the hell happened?"

"You lost consciousness when you fell into the gully. I tried shaking you, but you were unresponsive."

"And, what, you thought CPR would help?"

Tetsuya threw up his hands in defeat. "All right, so I thought if I did something really gay you'd wake up! Are you happy now? You can't get mad at me 'cause it obviously worked."

"I was having a dream. . . ." _About Fujioka_, Kasanoda was about to say, but trailed off instead. Good dream or bad, he couldn't really be sure, but that Hatori Bisco stuff had gotten under his skin. What was certain was that he was missing a good chunk of time of which he had no memory, and he had even less of an idea of where he was. Night had fallen, and it was too dark now to make out much of his surroundings. One cheek felt a little sore and wet—and, now that he thought about it, his clothes were wet as well.

Tetsuya let out a breath as though he'd been holding it all this time.

"You sure had me worried when I looked back and suddenly you weren't there, but luckily it looks like all this damp moss broke your fall. Come on. Let's get you out of here."

He put out a hand to help the young master to his feet; and as he was scrabbling stiffly to them, Kasanoda finally noticed the paper lantern Tetsuya had with him.

"Wait a second," he said. "We didn't have any light with us when we came through here."

Tetsuya blinked. "Oh, the lantern? I borrowed it from the inn in the next town."

"And the Tetsuya I know wouldn't have tried to kiss me, no matter how out-cold I was."

Then apparently you don't know him that well, Tetsuya thought to himself. "What are you getting at, Waka?"

"You're not Tetsuya at all, are you? You're a fox, trying to trick me."

Tetsuya laughed. It was the only thing he could think of to do, because the idea was too preposterous to dignify with any other response. "Funny, Waka. Okay, let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

His smile fell. "Wow, you must have hit your head or something harder than I thought. You don't actually believe in that stuff."

"I didn't before. I have to admit, I thought it was pretty stupid. But now I don't know. It's starting to actually make some sense. There are a lot of things that don't fit together here."

Tetsuya sighed. "You wanna know how I came by the lantern? Fine. It was getting dark, so I went into town and borrowed the lantern from an inn so I could come back and search for you properly."

"Where's all your stuff?"

"I left it at the inn. They still had a room open, so I booked it."

"Isn't that just a little _too_ convenient?"

"What the hell do you want from me?"

"That's what I was going to ask you. How do I know you're not a fox trying to trick me? That old lady said their ways are subtle, that you can't always tell someone isn't really a fox."

"Because I'm telling you, Waka: I. Am. Tetsuya."

"A fox would try to do something gay to get me to wake up," Kasanoda thought aloud. "Come on. The gig's up. Put out your tail."

As he said so, he grabbed Tetsuya by the shoulder and spun him around to get a good look at his backside. Tetsuya's protests died on his lips as he felt his whole face turn red. Talk about something gay. Sure, he had a crush on the young master, but this was a little too kinky, even for him. "W-what the fu—"

"We're not going anywhere until I see it."

"How can I put it out when I don't even _have_ a fucking tail?"

"Then I guess I'm just going to have to keep a close eye on you until I know for sure. Sorry in advance if you really are Tetsuya."

"But I _am_, that's what I've been trying to— _W-what are you doing?_"

It was the sound of the young master's belt being undone that made Tetsuya's heart suddenly hammer in his chest. Strangely, we wasn't sure whether he was more relieved or disappointed when Kasanoda cinched his wrists together behind his back, looping the belt in and out until he was satisfied and Tetsuya could only wriggle in vain.

"Now you can't try anything funny," Kasanoda said, picking up the lantern.

"I wasn't gonna! What gives, Waka? This is totally unnecessary!"

"It's only 'til we get to this inn of yours. As a precaution, just until I can figure this out. Now, which way was it?"

Tetsuya led him back to the road—as well as he was able with his hands stuck behind his back—and within minutes they had made it into town.

A few strange looks got tossed their way as they wandered down the main street, and Tetsuya started to think that the whole thing was just a joke at his own expense. Maybe it was punishment for something he'd done, like making Kasanoda pretend to be that comic novel author or something, because there was no way the young master could really think he was a fox unless he had in fact hit his head pretty hard.

Little did he know, the whole thing felt rather ridiculous to Kasanoda as well. But at the same time, a niggling sense of doubt told him it was best to err on the side of caution. After all, they _had_ gone back in time two hundred years, into a world where Haninozuka was a lord of strawberries and Nekozawa had fangirls. If something as outlandish as that could happen, foxes that took the shape of your best friend actually required much less of a suspension of disbelief, didn't they? Surely that defied the laws of physics no more than anything else the two of them had already been through. And he was sure the real Tetsuya—whether he was this guy or somewhere else, waiting—would understand that.

"Here we are, Waka. This is the inn," Tetsuya said.

The two stopped outside, and Kasanoda looked up. The lanterns were brightly lit along the building's stunning facade, and gay music and loud laughter could be heard from inside, inviting them to join in the merriment. "It certainly looks like a normal-enough inn. . . ."

"That's because it is," Tetsuya muttered under his breath when the front door opened up.

The man who greeted them with an ear-to-ear grin was a dead ringer for Headmaster Suou.

"Ah, you're back!" he said warmly to Tetsuya. "And I see you've found your friend alive and well."

"Well, alive at least," Tetsuya chuckled.

"Do come in. You two must be starving. Er, what's that you've got . . ." The landlord trailed off when he saw Tetsuya's makeshift manacles.

"He thinks I'm a fox trying to bewitch him."

"It's just a precaution," said Kasanoda.

"Er, all right. Whatever floats your boat, I suppose. Well, anyway, please excuse the noise," the landlord said as he led them inside. "As you could probably tell already, there's a rather big celebration here tonight. The son of the supplier of our china is finally marrying his childhood sweetheart, and the whole wedding party is staying at the inn. You were lucky, actually, that we had one last room available, but I'm afraid it's right next to the happy couple's room. I'm sorry in advance if your sleep isn't exactly untroubled tonight."

"Oh, that's all right," Tetsuya said. "We're just glad to get a room. We're so tired, anyway, we probably won't even notice."

"On the plus side, we have all this extra food from the wedding banquet to serve our guests. Since it's already been made, and someone's got to eat it, there's no sense charging you for it."

Kasanoda and Tetsuya's eyes went wide when they stepped into the little dining room, and for a moment they forgot all about their awkward situation. They had seen some nice spreads on their journey so far, but this one was fit for a king, with all manner of fresh meats and fish, steaming white rice and crystal-clear sake, the freshest vegetables in all kinds of rich dressings and golden batters—and all of it perfectly free.

As far as Kasanoda was concerned, between that and the fact that they'd somehow had the fortune of booking the very last room in the place, it was all just a little _too_ good to be true.

"I can't eat this," he said as the two settled down. "This is just another trick, isn't it? It's probably all enchanted dirt or horse poop or something. . . ."

"Waka!"

"What? I'm not sure that's a risk I want to take."

"Well, I'll chance it," said Tetsuya. "How 'bout untying my hands so they can feed my face, huh?"

Kasanoda considered it.

"If you're not going to eat anything, one of us should."

The young master wasn't crazy about the idea, but no sooner had he undone the belt from around Tetsuya's wrists than Tetsuya was pouring them both cups of sake and heaping a small mountain of food onto his plate.

"My congratulations to the happy couple, my good sir," said the old man who looked like Vice Principal Kazama—who had mysteriously shown up again and was already decently buzzed by the time the other two joined them. "With a feast like this, the marriage is sure to be off to a good start."

"Glad to hear you're enjoying yourself," the landlord who resembled Headmaster Suou beamed.

"Like I always say, you can tell a lot about a thing going just by the soup, and this soup is first class. Why, it is almost on par with the finest bowl of soup I have even to this day ever tasted."

"Really? And what was in that?"

"That's the only thing. You know, I don't actually remember, but I do remember it was like the ambrosia of the gods."

"This is incredible!" That was from Tetsuya, who had a deep-fried prawn in one hand and his cup of sake in the other. "Oh my god, mister, you have no idea . . . _Totally_ hits the spot. Waka, you really should have some."

"Yes, do," said the landlord. "Eat up, champ. Don't make me throw anything out."

Instinctively, Kasanoda moved to take some of the bright, glistening sashimi that had been tempting him since they came in, before he remembered where he was and stopped himself. "N-no, I couldn't possibly . . ."

"Please, help yourself. Take all you want."

"Well, maybe just a little." He could hardly contain himself when the clam flesh hit his tongue. "Hey, that's actually not bad. I mean, I know it might just be a really clever trick, but it _does_ taste like clam."

Tetsuya nodded. "Yeah?"

"M-m . . . And this is sake, right? I mean, real sake? It's not horse piss or pond water or—"

"It's real sake. Now do you believe me, Waka? You're not being bewitched."

The way the young master proceeded to empty his cup and fill up his plate was answer enough. He told himself he might regret it in the morning when it turned out to all have been some hallucination, and that maybe he should limit himself, but he was too hungry to remember that for long; and by the time the two retired to their room, they were stuffed to the gills, their heads swimming so much from the sake and the landlord's jokes that they had to support each other down the hall.

Tetsuya couldn't help a sigh of pleasure when he fell face-down on the soft futon and buried his face in the pillow.

Kasanoda didn't want to move once he'd sat down, either, but his conscience wouldn't let him sleep just yet.

"Hey, Tetsuya?"

"M-m?"

"You're not angry at me, are you? I mean, for the way I treated you earlier. . . ."

Tetsuya smiled to himself when he heard that, knowing it was the young master's way of apologizing. "I might have been at the time," he slurred into his pillow, "but not anymore."

"But . . . your wrists must hurt."

"It's nothing that can't be stretched out. No harm, no foul, right? Then again, I'm not feeling much harm in any sense of the word right about now."

"That was good sake."

"Mm-hm. The best kind: free."

Kasanoda couldn't argue with that. With his stomach full, head swimming in a way that wasn't unpleasant, and a cushy futon beneath him, it didn't seem like it would be long before he fell into a deep sleep.

It was just as he was thinking that that the two heard murmured conversation in the next room.

They exchanged glances.

"That must be . . ."

"Quick, put out the light!"

Tetsuya blew out the lamp, and the two sat up in their beds, wide awake now as they craned their ears for whatever sounds could be heard from the newly-weds' room next door. Neither would have been able to explain why it was so important the other room's occupants thought they were asleep, but they were taken simultaneously by a strange shyness and strong curiosity that wouldn't even let them risk getting changed for bed.

The light of the married couple's own lamp cast a soft glow around the sliding doors that divided the two rooms, and before too long Kasanoda and Tetsuya could just make out the sound of silk cords being undone and fabric sliding away.

A hushed gasp that undoubtedly came from the bride made Kasanoda blush. "I can't believe we're listening to thi—"

"_Shh!_" Tetsuya put a finger to his lips, and strained to hear more.

One would think that after that, the couple would have begun to get down to business; but for some inexplicable reason, they must have been wearing several layers of clothing, because it seemed to just keep coming off. After every layer, the bride and groom would whisper to one another or moan softly, and sometimes something unplaceable would clink, but they were still never quite undressed.

This went on for some minutes before Tetsuya yawned. "Would they just get to it already?"

"Maybe they want to, you know, make the night last."

"Yeah, well, I want to get some sleep—"

A burst of giggles from the next room caught their attention once again. "Oh," the bride gasped, "it's so beautiful!"

"Isn't it, though?" the groom agreed in a lusty whisper.

"Look how it glistens in the light. . . . And what an elegant shape! Why, it's just the right size."

"Would you like to try it out?"

"Would I? Oh, yes, please!"

A moment of tense silence went by during which all Kasanoda and Tetsuya could hear was the pounding of their own hearts, before the bride let out an appreciative moan. "My, and the texture is so nice against the lips, too!"

Tetsuya shook his head. "That's it. I can't stand it anymore."

"What are you going to do?" Kasanoda asked as the other got up and tiptoed to the room divider.

"Someone oughtta tell them to pipe down, people are trying to sleep."

But it didn't look like that person was going to be Tetsuya, as he seemed to be more interested in looking in on the couple in the other room than interrupting their fun.

"Oh, I want to use it every day!" said the ecstatic bride.

To which her groom chuckled. "There's enough here to use a new set every day of the week."

Now Tetsuya was sure this couple was into some kinky things. Not that he considered himself a voyeur, but those two were practically asking to be spied on with talk like that.

That thought had not escaped Kasanoda either. Tetsuya grunted and tried to keep himself from pitching forward into the divider when the young master squatted down right next to him, using Tetsuya to steady himself. "Hey, careful!" he hissed.

"What do you think is going on over there?"

"I don't know, but I won't be able to see if you keep pushing me!"

"Oh, Tohru, you sure know all my soft spots, don't you?"

Tetsuya gulped at that, and just the mental image that flashed through his brain was enough to take him sufficiently unawares, so that when the young master leaned over him in an attempt to peer through the room divider, they both lost balance and fell against it. Their stumbling for purchase only made things worse, and under their combined weight the divider bowed and popped out of its tracks, falling inward and dumping the two unceremoniously right into the newly-wed couple's room—with a crash of breaking china, just to add insult to injury. Tetsuya went sprawling over the collapsed door with Kasanoda landing heavily over his backside. They didn't even have the fortune of knocking over the lamp and escaping in darkness; the whole fiasco remained incredibly well lit.

The two blinked up at the newly-weds, who blinked back—fully clothed, horrified, and with china teacups cradled lovingly in their hands.

"Whu-whu-whu—" was all the bride could get out, and the groom was too stunned to speak at all.

That was when the other two recovered.

"I-I must have forgotten the way to the bathroom," Tetsuya started, at the same time Kasanoda was trying, "Sorry, he gets like this sometimes with the sleepwalking," before both realized it was utterly futile. The couple was sure to realize that the boys had been trying to spy on them, so it was useless to make up excuses.

Then the bride recovered her voice.

"Our new china! What are we going to do? Those were presents, and now they're completely ruined!"

True enough, the two boy's crashing into their room and bringing the room dividers down with them had broken more than a few cups and plates that they really didn't have the money on them to replace. Kasanoda and Tetsuya hated to think it, but it looked like they would be running for their livelihoods without a decent night's sleep once again.

They were about to apologize when the groom, to their surprise, laughed.

"It's all right, Kasuga," he said to his wife. "Apparently we're not the only ones enjoying our wedding night. The china can be replaced, but you can't hold a grudge against these two when they're obviously so passionately in love, they can hardly control themselves."

"We are?"

The two boys blinked again—and finally noticed how scandalous they looked, what with Tetsuya on his knees and elbows and the young master all but spooning him with one arm tight around his middle, and both looking more than a little disheveled.

Tetsuya blushed furiously.

Kasanoda leaped back.

"I-I-I think there's been a misunderstanding. . . ."

"There's no need to be ashamed," the groom said with a wave, while his bride looked like she was about to be violently ill. "What you do behind closed doors is your business. Just be more careful of your surroundings in the future, okay, so said closed doors don't, you know, pop out of their tracks."

"Dear, you're much too easy-going for your own good, you realize that, don't you?" his wife chided him while Tetsuya picked himself up off the floor.

Kasanoda was already busying himself getting the door back in its tracks—anything so he didn't have to face the room's other occupants.

"Is everyone all right up here? I heard an awful crash."

To make matters even worse, the Headmaster Suou-esque landlord came bounding into the room in his dressing gown, looking just a little too chipper to be truly alarmed by the whole thing. Much to Tetsuya and Kasanoda's utter dismay, some concerned members of the wedding party had thought to follow him.

"The room dividers fell inward, is all," the groom said easily enough. "I guess they just couldn't stand up to the sheer force of the love-making next door."

Tetsuya slammed his forehead into his hand. "Great. . . ."

Kasanoda just wanted to die.

Both seemed to agree without actually saying so that, even though no one was kicking them out this time, it was probably best they made a hasty exit.

"So," Tetsuya said with an uneasy smile as they headed back to their room for their belongings, "I guess it's the barn for us tonight, after all, huh, Waka?"

"Don't talk to me," came the frosty response.

For tonight, at least, it seemed the Human Blizzard was back.


	16. Hey there, Edo boys

Morning found our two travelers sitting dazed and propped up against one another on a bench in a town they didn't know, sore all over from grabbing a nap in someone's hay loft and heads pounding from all the sake the night before, hands dangling dead between their knees, dark circles under their eyes, a bad taste in their mouths, and the sound of clucking hens echoing in their minds. The eggs they had nabbed for breakfast were still uncooked and uneaten in their plastic grocery bags, and even the faint grumbling of their stomachs couldn't rouse them to get up and go asking around for a frying pan.

To add insult to injury, everyone who passed by them thought they were a couple of bums, judging by the disapproving looks they shot the two—or worse, down-and-out lovers. And the bruise on Kasanoda's cheek from his fall the evening before wasn't helping them much in that regard.

Case in point: "Really, is there no public decency left?" someone clucked their tongue at them as he passed.

"The poor fellows," one woman whispered to her friend, who said, "The poor _fellows_? Think of the poor missus who kicked them to the curb! Whatever it was they did, I'll bet you they deserve what they got for it!"

Tetsuya's middle finger itched, but he didn't have the energy to use it.

"See, son? That's what happens when you don't stay in school. You become a washed-up actor, and end up on the street, sleeping in barns and selling your behind for drugs."

"I wanna be an actor when I grow up!"

"What did I just tell you? Don't you ever let me catch you saying that again!"

The two young travelers watched the little boy get dragged away by his mortified parents, following them with their puffy, sleep-deprived eyes.

"I know I should be offended," Kasanoda grumbled, "but I'm too tired for even that."

"Tell me about it," Tetsuya sighed. "And when did our trip turn into Ritsu and Tetsuya's Incredibly Queer Journey?"

"Right? Why does everyone think we're gay?"

"Hold on, Waka, you've got a piece of hay from last night . . . it's just sticking right . . ."

As Kasanoda reached up, Tetsuya plucked it out of his hair for him, like a loving mother chimp. "There. I got it."

"Oh. Thanks."

The two looked up to see a couple of young ladies glancing at them and twittering, their maid tsk-tsking the two boys as she followed behind. Kasanoda's spirits sank even lower.

Tetsuya, meanwhile, oblivious to onlookers, sniffed his shirt. And grimaced. "Ugh. We smell like chickens. . . ."

"We need to find a place to wash up."

"You said it, Waka."

"Then some room and a food—I mean, food and a room."

"Where we can get a proper night's sleep this time, no more funny business."

The two managed to drag themselves into a public bath, where—because they were too exhausted to scrub each other's backs themselves—they shelled out the fee for a shampooer. The old man was just as blind as a shampooer could be, but his nostrils apparently worked just fine, as he was quick to ask the boys if they'd been sleeping in a barn or something, to which the duo had no choice but to answer that yes, in fact, that was exactly what they'd been doing, how nice of him to notice.

As the shampooer scrubbed Kasanoda's back, nearly putting the young master to sleep in the process, Tetsuya asked him if he knew of a good inn in town.

"Try ol' Fujinami's place down by the river," the shampooer said. "They have some great service there, truly above and beyond the bar. It's a big building, right on the water. Can't miss it."

Can't miss it indeed.

A half hour later and the two were blinking their bleary eyes at the gaudiest building they had ever seen shy of a Hindu temple, with painted red beams, a bright teal tiled roof, and big yellow lanterns in the eaves. It was past their blooming season, but big fat purple and white bunches of fake wisteria blossoms hung everywhere it was even remotely possible inside and outside the inn, and a huge backdrop of Mt Fuji hung against the far wall just because it could. Large signs running down either sides of the entrance in bold, neon script and flashing on an electric sign out on the street proudly proclaimed it the Cabaret Fujinami. It didn't strike either of them as particularly promising, but they had to admit it did stand out—like a Brazilian Mardi Gras parade—and the people coming out of it did look thoroughly satisfied.

So, in a fresh change of clothes and no longer smelling strongly of chickens, the two travelers went in and found themselves a seat.

They didn't have to wait very long before they were approached by a demure-looking girl in kimono, notepad and pen in hand at the ready.

"Thank goodness the service here is quick," Tetsuya said. "Yes, could we have a pot of your strongest tea to start with, and—"

"Fujioka?"

Tetsuya blinked and the rest of his order died on his lips when he looked over at the young master, who was in turn currently staring at the waitress. Hard. She did kind of look like Fujioka Haruhi, Tetsuya had to admit, from what little he had seen of the kid, what with her short brown hair, wide eyes, flat chest, and on-the-plain-side but good looks.

She cleared her throat.

"Can I take your order this morning, fine sirs?" she sang—or rather, the words came out of her mouth in an horrific jumble of notes that didn't resemble any sort of melody at all, but were in fact (it's sad to say) a little closer to the mrowling of a dying cat.

Tetsuya resisted the strong urge to put his hands over his ears, and even Kasanoda couldn't keep an entirely straight face. One eyelid began to twitch despite his best efforts.

"Uh, miss, are you all right?" Tetsuya asked her.

For reasons he didn't understand, it earned him a punch in the shoulder from the young master.

"What? I'm just asking. She sounds awful."

Something went whizzing by them before she could answer and stuck itself in the table in front of Kasanoda, making him jump. Thrown like a ninja star though it was, to his and Tetsuya's surprise, it appeared to be a courtesan's long hairpin.

A voice offstage accompanied it:

"How many times do I have to tell you not to sing off-key—Oharu!"

Kasanoda blinked and looked up at the girl. "Oharu?"

Before she could sing another word (thankfully), a collective gasp from the other diners drew their attention to the backdrop of Mt Fuji, which parted down the middle like a curtain, revealing the stunning, slinky figure of a high-class courtesan in full regalia—golden kanzashi radiating from swept-up auburn, wavy hair; impeccably painted and glittered eyes and lips; and brightly colored layers of shimmering brocade that fell alluringly off a long, slender neck and . . . Well, in a major departure from tradition, sported a hemline that revealed a generous amount of toned, fishnet-stockinged leg, ending—for some reason or another—in gold, high-heeled Mary Janes.

She surveyed the establishment with an imperious gaze, before pointing somewhere off stage left and calling in a voice that was husky and unmistakably masculine:

"Come on, music!"

On her, or rather, _his_ cue, a saucy little number started up that got him strutting out from the curtains with a Michael Jackson-esque squeal.

It made Oharu press her fingers to her forehead and groan, "Ugh, not again. . . ."

"Not again what? What's going on?" Kasanoda looked between her and the figure on stage, before that person began to sing a little something like this:

"I'm the dandy Ranka-san, you may have heard me mentioned  
Whose cabaret is guaranteed to _grab_ your attention  
Yes, I'm the dandy Ranka-san, and here's your invitation  
So sit back, have a glass, and enjoy our musical sensation"

Oharu looked downright mortified when he playfully tugged on an enamored guest's topknot at the "grab" bit. But despite this, the on-stage prowess of this drag queen who called himself Ranka-san was undeniable. The smooth, masculine timbre of his voice and feminine sashay actually went together better than one would have thought—not unlike the unappetizing yet strangely tasty combination of ketchup and white rice—and few were the guests who could tear their eyes away from his glittering countenance when he began to weave around the tables, rolling his hips and batting his fake eyelashes.

"An adventure like you've never had  
Kuwana's place to be-e  
There's more than food on the menu, boys  
Coffee, tea, or me

"We got culinary skills to pay the bills  
And ambition to delight  
With just a _pinch_ of sweet transvestiality  
O-oh, you know we'll do you right"

A female guest was the target of his charms this time, and she nearly swooned as he sang the last part with a tickle under her chin, a wink, and just the right amount of saucy tremolo.

When he galloped over to their table next, Kasanoda wished he could slouch down far enough in his chair to make himself invisible.

But no such luck. He hardly even had time to blink before a platter of sushi was being shoved under his nose.

"Hey there, Edo boys—what brings you down around this way?  
Care for some fish?  
Care for some fish?  
Hey there, Edo boys—can I interest you in our special today?  
It's truly delish  
It's truly delish"

A tray carrying a rainbow variety of sponge cakes was slid in front of Tetsuya with a very inviting—and rather flirtatious—grin from Ranka; but he didn't have a chance to even reach for one before said tray was flung carelessly away, and Ranka was on to tease another table, leaving a very hungry, and furiously blushing couple of boys behind him.

"We got rice cakes and noodles  
And sake on tap  
Whatever you may hanker for  
We'll have it to you in a snap

"But if something less gastronomical  
Is what your heart desires  
Our song and dance is guaranteed  
To fill you with the fire"

He made it back to the stage just as he was finishing this last verse, the spotlight following him and his swaying rear end all the way.

When he reached it, he spun on his gold Mary Janes, striking a sexy pose beside the "Special of the Day" blackboard.

"So check out today's slate," he said to the crowd in a low voice full of unnecessary innuendo, "and order up a plate. Don't give us none of that hesitation. Whether you stay for a bite, or—" A chuckle. "—even for the night, you're sure to find everything to your . . . _satisfaction_."

The orchestra geared up again for one last huzzah as he threw a feather boa around his shoulders and sauntered back down onto the floor, singing: "And welcome to the Cabaret Fujinami at . . . historic Kuwana Station, in lovely Mie Province whoa-ho-o-o, uh-huh. . . ."

As the music faded away and the audience applauded and went back to their tea, Ranka managed to sneak in a quick "Be sure check out our gift shop on the way out, thank you very much." Looking just a little winded, he made his way over to Kasanoda and Tetsuya's table and poured them some tea.

"Wow," Tetsuya said, "do you do a song with every pot of tea? That's what I call a commitment to service!"

Ranka sighed and dropped into an empty seat next to Tetsuya, and winked. "All the better to please you, honey."

"Listen to you—all out of breath again," Oharu told him. "I keep telling you not to overdo it like that. You're not a spring chicken anymore, Dad."

The boys blinked, glancing incredulously between the two. "_Dad?_"

Ranka blinked back. "You two seem surprised. What, can't you see the family resemblance?"

He grabbed a protesting Oharu in a headlock as though that would help them make a comparison, but the boys had to admit they did not.

"Yes, it's a little known fact that the famed Cabaret Fujinami is actually a father and daughter operation. A daught-and-pop, if you will, committed to bringing diners the best family entertainment in the tri-provincial region." Needless to say, though, his understanding of what constituted "family entertainment" and theirs weren't necessarily congruent. "Of course, back when we started I had a lot more energy to give my performance . . ."

"I think you did great."

That comment earned a leer from Ranka, and Kasanoda instantly regretted making it. The queen leaned back on his elbows, crossing one long, shapely leg over the other.

"Well, aren't you a dear?" he purred. "Careful, a girl could get hooked on that sugar. So-o-o? What brings you two gents to the Kuwana checkpoint anyway?"

"Kuwana? Wait a second, I knew that sounded familiar! Waka, do you know where we are?" When Kasanoda just shrugged, Tetsuya said, "The Kuwana checkpoint was considered the gateway to the Ise Shrine!"

"M-m," Ranka hummed. "So you two are on your way to the Shrine. M-m, no, couldn't have seen that one coming. Not in a million years."

"Well, it's not like it came up in conversation or anything—"

"I was being sarcastic, honey."

"Where did you start out from?"

Tetsuya was secretly glad to hear Oharu asking instead, though not nearly as much as Kasanoda was.

"Tokyo—er, Edo," he said.

"Really? You guys sure have come a long way. See anything interesting on your travels so far?"

Kasanoda's entire face blushed. "It's kind of a long story. . . ."

"Then that means we probably don't have time to hear it," Ranka said. He slapped his thigh and hopped to his feet. "Come on, Oharu! The place is jumping, and I think they need more pot stickers at table three. Get on it, girl. Ooh, and remember what I always tell you?"

Oharu sighed.

"A bad song is worse than no song at all," she grumbled before moving on.

Ranka shook his head sadly. "Can you believe that poor, tone-deaf little kitten came out of me?"

The two boys really didn't want to picture _anything_ coming out of him at all.

"Mm-mm. No talent whatsoever, the poor little muffin."

Thankfully, someone calling for another pot of tea at another table saved the two from having to respond. "Right away, good sir!" Ranka called back. "Come on! Music!"

And he danced away to get them a refill as the band started back up, flipping the feather boa over his shoulder.

Which left Kasanoda and Tetsuya alone at the table, with the sushi and sponge cakes between them. "Wow," Tetsuya muttered around some salmon. "We've met some weird characters on his trip, but I think he takes the cake. And considering that one guy who was actually obsessed with cake, I'm not saying that lightly. Let's just finish up and get the heck out of here."

"I don't know. I think this place is kinda cute."

Tetsuya nearly choked on the salmon then. "Waka, I didn't just hear you call this place _cute_, did I? Were you and me talking to the same okama owner just a moment ago?"

Kasanoda scowled to himself. He knew how he sounded, but it wasn't like he could just up and explain, either, why "cute" had been the word to come out of his mouth. It had nothing to do with the owner—whom he thought was no less weird than Tetsuya did—but it did have everything to do with a certain daughter of his. A certain dead ringer for Fujioka Haruhi, even down to her dry, unladylike grumble which he found so endearing.

It was because he was thinking of her that it kind of slipped out: "I think we should stay the night."

"Here? Okay, I wasn't gonna say anything before, but I noticed you haven't exactly been the same since you took that fall in those enchanted woods."

Kasanoda was going to say something to the effect of, "I know, but," when something he felt in his pocket made him stop short.

Or rather, something he didn't feel in his pocket.

"Hey, Tetsuya? Sorry, man, but I think you're gonna have to pick this one up."

Tetsuya dug into his trousers to pull out what change he had left, and was dismayed to find it was very little indeed. He even dug into the very corner where the seams came together, but the amount he ended up dumping on the table was much less than he had thought he still had.

"It must have been the shampooer that broke the bank," he said to the young master's groan. "Although that inn wasn't cheap either."

"You mean the one we didn't even get to sleep in?"

"Hey, at least we got free food."

Kasanoda held his head, his elbows on the table, messing up his own hair, but none of it helped him come up with a solution any faster. "What are we gonna do? We might have just enough to pay for this if we can haggle a low price, but we'll never make it to Ise."

"Well, shit! I hate the Edo period! What's the point of having a bank card if there's never an ATM around?"

As their luck would have it, that was when Ranka passed by their table to ask how everything was going.

"I'm sorry, Mr Fujinami—"

"Call me Ranka."

"Mr Ranka," Kasanoda corrected himself, "sorry to have to bring this up now, but it doesn't look like we have enough cash on us to pay you for all the food."

Tetsuya dug into his bag. "We've got some eggs, though, if that makes any difference."

Ranka hummed. "That is a predicament, isn't it? I'm not running a charity here, but it would be unfeeling of me if I said I didn't want you to make it to Ise, either. Why, I remember when I was just a young, newly single father, wanting to take my baby girl to see the Shrine, and having our money run out right on this spot. On the other hand, it wasn't _all_ bad, because if that hadn't happened, this establishment might never have come into existence—"

"Liar," Oharu muttered. "You were always going on about how much you wanted to open a dinner theater when Mom was alive."

Ranka just ignored her. "So, what you boys are saying is, it looks as though you could use a job."

"Seems that way," Tetsuya agreed, egg in hand.

"Just a temporary one, of course," Kasanoda was quick to add, glancing shyly at Oharu.

"Of course. Well, then, it seems we're all in luck. Fate must truly be on my side to drop two strapping young men in my lap just as I was thinking of hiring on some new help—"

"You didn't mention anything to me about it," Oharu said.

"I was waiting for the right time, dear. So," Ranka said, looking between Kasanoda and Tetsuya. "What do you lads say? How'd you like to wait tables at the Cabaret Fujinami, hm?"

Before the two could answer, however, a cup was raised into the air with a call for more tea.

"What, again already?" And Ranka was off again to the same old song and dance.


	17. ドッコイショ! ドッコイショ!

Souga would have said the funeral had gone off without a hitch if it weren't for the fact that said funeral was being held for the betrothed of one Miss Morimoto Momoka. As if it weren't bad enough luck for a young Buddhist priest to be overseeing the funeral for the once husband-to-be of his childhood sweetheart, it was even worse because now that she was a sort-of-almost widow, the only thing he could think of through the whole ceremony was: Chance!

Souga groaned as he wiped his glasses on his sleeve in the now empty temple. He was surely going to hell. The one blessing he could count was that at least the ordeal was over and the guests had finally left—

"Kiyo—"

He jumped and screamed like a girl and spun, one hand on the altar and the other over his heart, to face the speaker, nearly knocking a censer over in the process.

"Oops, I mean Souga. Sorry, force of habit."

"Mama mia, Momoka! Don't sneak up on me like that, you're going to give me a heart attack!"

Sure enough, there stood Momoka herself, looking small and demure framed by the temple entrance, in her good kimono, her hands folded together on her lap— No, Souga, I know what you're thinking but _don't go there!_ the young priest chided himself, shaking his head. Remember your vows!

"Wh-what are you still doing here?" he said instead, pushing up his glasses. "Shouldn't you be with your family?"

"Well, the truth is, I just didn't want to be surrounded by people feeling sorry for me right now and I thought maybe we could talk. You know, like old times. If it's not a good time, I can come back when you're not busy—"

"No!" Souga was quick to say, then cursed himself for sounding too eager. "I mean, I-I'm not particularly doing anything right now."

Momoka smiled at that. Score one for Souga! "Want to take a walk with me?"

It was one of the things acolytes were first warned about in their training—maybe not the first thing, but pretty far up there on the list of things that will surely send you to hell. That is, being seen about town in the company of a young widow. Granted, though, Momoka hadn't actually _been_ married, and—much to his relief—she hadn't actually cared for the deceased she was supposed to have gotten married to _that way_, as she confessed to him on their walk, so Souga was beginning to think that this probably didn't count. Even if he had supposedly forsaken the world, could you really blame a guy for seizing the opportunity to make up with his childhood sweetheart? It wasn't like second chances exactly grew on trees.

It seemed that Momoka was thinking the same thing. "Remember when we were kids, Souga, and we had that mock wedding? I know people grow up and things change, but back then I really believed I'd grow up to be your wife. Funny, isn't it, what ends up sticking with you?"

He couldn't stand it any more.

Swallowing his pride, literally—it tasted a little like nervous-vomit—Souga stopped in the middle of the street, took Momoka's hands in his, and looked up at her through his glasses like he'd never dared look at another woman. "I never thought I'd have a chance to say this to you, what with my vows and your engagement and all, but—mama mia, Momoka! If you could just look past these black robes you'd see that I—"

He didn't get any further, because as his luck would have it, the weather chose that very moment to turn sour. A big flash of lightning lit the sky, followed almost instantly by thunder; and to add injury to insult when he squealed, it started pouring rain. Actually, "dumping rain" would have been a more accurate choice of words. Within seconds, both of them were soaked.

They ducked under an awning, but it seemed like all the establishments around them were closed for the day.

"Of all times. . . . Mama mia, Momoka! We've got to get you indoors before you catch your death of cold!"

They hurried along the dirt road—which was quickly turning into a mud road—when they happened to turn a corner they'd never turned before. There, standing like a beacon before them at the end of the street, was the colorful facade of the Cabaret Fujinami, its lanterns glowing warmly through the gray and the rain. It was like a sign from the Pure Land.

Which was just a little too good to be true as far as Souga was concerned. It was only natural to be suspicious of something _that_ timely, wasn't it? "Uh, I don't know about this. . . ."

"Oh, come on, Souga. We'll only stay until the weather clears up, I promise. But it does look inviting. I guess even on your darkest days you can find some little bit of brightness, if you just know where to look. No matter what's happened in your life. There's a light. . . ." Momoka began to sing as she dragged Souga toward the building.

"Over at the Fujinami place," a choir of shop sign girls finished for her, beckoning them inwards.

"There's a li-i-i-ight. . . ."

"Burning in the fireplace!"

"There's a light," the two agreed, glancing at each other as they stepped through the entrance curtains, "li-ight," and suddenly Souga found he couldn't look away—or let go, "in the darkness of everybody's—"

"Table for two?"

Souga turned to look up at the gruff-voiced server who had spoken and—for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day—saw his life flash before his eyes. "You!"

The crisp white shirt and long apron around the waiter's waist didn't strike the young priest as inviting at all, and the cat ears that seemed to have been attached to his head as an afterthought did nothing to smooth out the murderous appearance of the red-headed young man whom Souga instantly recognized, despite the disguise, as the one from the ferry who had thought it would be wise to bring a tanuki aboard.

"_Huh?_" Kasanoda said in a somewhat unprofessional manner. "What's that supposed to mean, _'you'_?"

Souga squeaked and threw his hands up in front of his face. "Please don't kill me!"

That just seemed to piss the waiter off even more.

"What the fu— Why would I do that?"

"You know this person?" Momoka asked Souga, who tried to mime to her that now was not the time to get into details.

"Look, you want me to show you to a seat or what?" Kasanoda gritted out, one eye twitching.

"Yes, please," the girl said cheerfully, without missing a beat, and Kasanoda proceeded to do just that. "My, what a quaint little place you've got here. Such a warm atmosphere. And to think, Souga, you were hesitant to come inside."

"D-don't mention it," Souga managed as he wiped his soaked brow with a hankie. "Seriously. Please don't."

The full extent of their exchange was lost on Ranka where he was. However, the sight of Momoka's smile made him sigh in satisfaction as he came up beside Tetsuya, who had just delivered a round of desserts to his own table of female customers who couldn't help telling him repeatedly what a charming young man he was.

"I'm so glad to see everything is going swimmingly so far!" the okama gushed. "Our lady guests are sure enjoying themselves, aren't they? I must admit, I've always not-so-secretly wanted my own butler cafe, and thank my lucky stars I somehow ended up with a baby girl who doesn't mind dressing as a boy."

Tetsuya followed his gaze to where Oharu was currently taking a couple of middle-aged ladies' order, waving off their compliments with the biggest smile and most polite of bows.

"Yeah," he chuckled as he adjusted his own set of cat ears, "I wonder where she could have gotten that from."

Case in point, although Ranka cut a dashing masculine figure in his own white shirt, black tie, and long apron, his lines as he watched Oharu with hand on hip and hip thrust out were all woman. "Adorable, isn't she?"

His face fell a little, though, when Oharu tripped over her own feet on her way back to the kitchen.

"Okay, so there're still a few bugs to work out."

"Are you alright, Oharu?" Kasanoda asked her a few minutes later in the kitchen, still concerned about her close call with the floor. "How are you holding together?"

"Oh, same as always. Everyone's been really supportive of the new theme so far." Kasanoda didn't have the heart to tell her he meant if she was okay with her feet, not with the guests. "How 'bout you, Casanova?"

"It's Kasanoda," he started to correct her on instinct, but stopped himself. He actually kind of preferred it her way—_Haruhi's_ way. "Um, yeah, okay I guess. This is my first time working at a restaurant, but it's not too bad once you get used to it. I figure it's just like acting."

"You think so?" Oharu hummed. "That's what Dad always says, too, but I just never saw what all the hullabaloo was about, wanting to pretend to be someone else."

"Then, that makes you a natural at this sort of thing, right?"

"Not for a dinner theater. In a dinner theater, you're at a real disadvantage if you can't sing or act, especially if your dad and owner of the place can. I just wish he would accept that I'm not cut out for the acting thing and stop pushing me so hard. He's only gonna wind up disappointed."

"Maybe you just need to practice," Kasanoda said, trying to be helpful. When she looked inquisitively at him, he elaborated, "You know, like role-playing and stuff. Exercises."

"Exercises?" Oharu parroted. "You mean like calisthenics?"

"Not really. Like, try this. Get really mad at me, as mad as you can, and go, _'Ahh!'_"

"Why would I get mad at you?"

Kasanoda broke into a cold sweat. She was kidding, right? "I don't know. It's your motivation, is all. Just pretend. Imagine some customer just told you to take your mochi balls and shove it—"

"But I couldn't talk back to a guest, no matter how much they might deserve it. That would be so unprofessional, not to mention it would reflect poorly on our business—"

"Okay, whatever. Forget customers, then. Pretend you just dropped some dishes in the kitchen and you're really mad at yourself. Like nothing's going right today and you can't stand it any longer. You have to scream. It's just driving you nuts. _Ahh!_ Like that."

"Ah."

"No, more angry. _'A-a-ahh!'_ You gotta feel it."

"Ah! But I'm not angry, so it just seems kind of silly."

"Come on, just keep trying. You think I got to be the scariest guy at school overnight? Do it from your gut!"

"_Ah!_ Like that?"

"Madder! _Ahh!!_"

"A-ah! A-_ah_-hh!"

This went on for some time, during which Oharu tried every inflection she could think of and still somehow ended up sounding like a talking piece of wood. Kasanoda really hated to admit it, but the girl he was kind of falling for had no acting abilities whatsoever. Ranka was right. It was pretty sad, really.

To Tetsuya, however, who's only real understanding of their discourse was from a distance, it looked like the two of them were having lots of fun—the kind of fun he'd been wanting to have with the young master this whole trip. It was distracting him more than just a little from the delicate task of making nice and busing stacks of flatware back to the kitchen. It was making him jealous. It didn't help any that Tetsuya really liked seeing this new, servile side to the young master. Not to mention the way Kasanoda was all but fawning over the girl, just like he had with that Fujioka kid back home—

"You love him, don't you?" Ranka said.

Tetsuya started, nearly spilling the hot tea he was trying to pour on himself. "What? No! I mean, well, it's not what you . . . It's not like I'm . . ."

Ranka laughed, leaning casually back against the bar. "Relax. Neither am I. I mean, not _entirely_. I know, hard to believe, right? But I loved Oharu's mother more than I've ever loved another soul, and no one could ever replace her. However," he added with a wink, "I have been down that road enough times myself to recognize a look of agonized, unrequited longing when I see it."

Tetsuya's shoulders slumped. "Is it really that obvious?"

"M-m. Don't worry: your friend seems to be even denser than Oharu when it comes to this sort of stuff, and that's saying a lot. But it's nothing to be ashamed of if you really care about him. Why don't you tell him how you feel?"

"Yeah, right. Tell him I'm totally queer for him and risk having him throw me back out on the street he saved me from? No thank you. Besides, even if by some stroke of luck he was cool with it, it wouldn't do any good because he's already madly in love with someone who doesn't love him back. To make matters worse, that other person is another guy. I didn't think that could be worse, but somehow it just is, if that makes any sense whatsoever."

Ranka nodded sagely. "I think I know what you mean."

"I mean, even if I didn't disgust him, even if he does . . . lean that way, I don't see what he'd want with a high school drop-out, ex-thug like me. I'm his father's rival's son, for crying out loud. No matter how much I wish things could be different, it just wasn't meant to be."

Tetsuya stopped short, suddenly aware that he had probably said too much. Much more than he had intended to say to someone he hardly knew, anyway, and who was essentially his boss. But now that the truth had started coming out, he couldn't exactly stop the rest of it from following.

"I'm not the good kind of person you and Waka seem to think I am, Mr Ranka," he confessed. "I'm really not. I mean, I'm trying my best, but the way I see it, the fact that he keeps me around at all is pushing my luck enough as it is. How could I do anything that might ruin that? You know, this might sound crazy, but sometimes I think it would be easier if I'd never met him. But then again, would I ever be as happy as I am now if I hadn't?"

"You've thought long and hard about this, haven't you?"

"Kinda?" Tetsuya winced. "I'm really in a pickle, aren't I?"

"Seems that way," Ranka said.

"You're not going to fire me after everything I said, are you?"

"Why would I do that? You still want to make it to Ise with your friend, don't you? You think the rest of us are perfect little angels underneath it all?" When Tetsuya couldn't think of anything to say to that, the okama patted him on the back. "It doesn't look like there's anything I can say that will help you with your little infatuation problem. But you know what they say. If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with. Eh?"

"That's what I keep trying to tell him about this Fujioka kid, but—" Tetsuya started, then shot Ranka a look. "Hey!"

"Relax, relax," said the okama. "You're not my type."

Then he put an arm around Tetsuya's shoulders. "Although I _am_ a poor, lonely ol' widower— Ow! Okay. All right, joking!"

"What was that just now about the mother of your child?"

"I was just joking! Don't sue me. Oharu dear!" he called out with a feminine wave. "Bossa Nova!"

"It's Kasanoda."

"Whichever. Come here for a second, would you?"

With a shrug, the other two joined them, and Ranka promptly put his other arm around the young master's shoulders as well.

"I just wanted to congratulate the four of us on a job well done. Thanks to everyone's efforts, and especially owing to the charms of you two young gents, the Cabaret Fujinami has raked in an admirable profit today. No small feat for this gloomy weather, either, and we still haven't had the dinner rush!"

"Seems your cat-waiter theme was a real hit," Oharu said.

"That's no big surprise, dear. _Everyone_ loves cat ears. My! Lookit what a happy little group we are," Ranka beamed, squeezing the three of them closer to him, "a well-oiled little machine, we four gay compañeros—"

"I'm not gay," said Kasanoda.

"Of course you're not." From his tone of voice, though, it didn't seem like Ranka believed him. "Now get back out there and do that voodoo you do, you princes of coffee, you kings of the crab cakes—unless you want to nit-pick about not being royalty, too."

The afternoon passed quickly enough. Despite the less-than-ideal weather, enough people turned out to dine at their establishment that the three young servers never found themselves wanting for something to do or someone to help. A Red Hat convention must have blown into town on a pilgrimage as well, because our two travelers had never been referred to as scamps so many times nor ogled by so many older ladies in one place.

It was already evening when Kasanoda and Tetsuya were finally allowed a decent break, and the young master wasted no time pulling Tetsuya aside to tell him what was on his mind.

"I want to do something special for Oharu," he confessed. "She seems really bummed out about her not being able to act. I've been trying to coach her a little whenever we get a break in customers, but so far nothing's really done any good."

That's 'cause you can't you actually turn a pumpkin into a stage coach, Tetsuya wanted to say, but somehow he didn't think that would go over well with the young master. "What did you have in mind?"

Kasanoda chewed his lip. "I don't know. . . . Something that doesn't require a whole lot of memorizing."

"Or emoting, probably. . . ."

"_No ABBA_."

"No shit. Don't have to tell me twice."

Tetsuya thought hard. How could they help Oharu overcome her woodenness and turn her into a real showgirl? Not that he really cared, but if they could somehow pull it off, at least it would make the young master happy. The only question was where and how to begin.

As Tetsuya was wracking his brain, his eyes fell on a couple of bright blue and white haori jacket—like the kind worn by rickshaw drivers, or maybe left there by some members of the Shinsengumi—just hanging on a post, and all of a sudden it hit him. He started and grabbed Kasanoda's arm. "Hey, Waka, I've got it! Yosakoi dancing! You went to a public grade school, right? Didn't you guys ever do that for your cultural festivals?"

"Hey, yeah. . . ." The wheels were clearly turning now. "You know, you might just be on to something."

"It is kind of physically demanding."

"But there aren't too many steps to memorize, and it's not like you really have to express yourself at all. You just follow everyone else's lead. It's brilliant!"

"We can use these," Tetsuya said, pulling down jackets for himself and Kasanoda—which they slipped on over their cafe uniforms, sans aprons. "Wow, doesn't this just take you back?"

"I just hope I still remember all the steps."

So, in their new costumes, the two sneaked onto the stage, where Tetsuya whispered their idea to the orchestra.

Thankfully, the shamisen and flute players and drummers knew exactly what he was talking about, and the duo took their places on the stage—heads down, knees bent, and feet well apart—with no more preamble than a brief, "This one's for Oharu."

The shamisen players strummed their instruments in a fast, twangy rhythm, and the boys mimed waves going past their faces. When the drums and flutes entered, they grabbed at the stage like they were hauling in rope, one hand over the other, reaching for the ceiling.

"Dokkoisho, dokkoisho!" Tetsuya shouted, making like he was tugging a line.

"Dokkoisho, dokkoisho!" Kasanoda echoed, doing the same.

"So-ran, so-ran!" Invisible nets full of fish got tossed over their shoulders.

"So-ran, so-ran!" Kasanoda brought up the rear, and then the process repeated:

"Dokkoisho, dokkoisho!"—"Dokkoisho, dokkoisho!"—"So-ran, so-ran!"—"So-ran, so-ran!"

"Eh ya-ren, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran," the two chanted in unison, in turns pulling and pushing some imaginary thing off to their rights, and pumping the air with a fist: "Hai! Hai!"

They tried to remember how the verses went—something about asking seagulls whether the herring had come in yet—but they ended up having to make up most of it on the fly. "Kuwana's a nice place to be," Kasanoda would say, and then Tetsuya would add something along the lines of, "It's got the best coffee in the nineteenth century." They pretty much sang whatever bullshit happened to come to mind.

It didn't seem to matter what the lyrics were, though, because with all the turning and waving of sleeves, the crab walks back and forth and punching the air with one fist and then the other, their enthusiasm was quite catchy. A couple of the shop sign girls, feeling confident they could follow along, jumped in behind them. And in no time at all, they had the audience clapping along and shouting out "Dokkoisho, dokkoisho!" after their lead.

Hearing that made Tetsuya grin so widely he could barely keep up the chant. When he happened to glance over, he noticed Kasanoda was beaming just as brightly. It made Tetsuya's heart race. This was the kind of fun he'd always wanted to have with the young master, the kind of fun one could only experience playing kick the can or doing yosakoi with his best friend.

Best friend! What a thought that was in and of itself. And one Tetsuya wanted to last for as long as possible.

But the two were beginning to run out of steam, and it was time to bring the song and dance number to a close. The two spread their arms wide and put all their energy into one last "Hai!" together with the orchestra. Immediately afterwards, the cabaret erupted into applause and appreciative whistles. By the grins on their breathless faces, Kasanoda and Tetsuya couldn't have been more pleased or surprised with the outcome.

It made it all the more worth it to see Oharu standing by the orchestra, watching them with slack jaw and a tray clutched to her chest. "You guys really did that for me?" she said when they spotted her.

Kasanoda turned red. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, yeah. I know I'm a little rusty, but . . . Well, what'd you think?"

"I thought it was brilliant!" she said, grinning from ear to ear.

If only they could have said the same about their boss.

"Holy Minnelli!" Ranka said as he rushed the stage. "What the hell was _that?_"

"Sorry, Mr Ranka," Kasanoda said, though neither of them felt that apologetic. "It was just something that hit us all of a sudden. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I know we probably should have asked you first if it was okay—"

"_Okay?_" He pulled them both to him, sweaty faces and all, one under each arm. "This is a _travesty!_ You boys had all this talent all this time, and you were _hiding_ it from me?"

"T-then you're not mad at us?" said Tetsuya.

"My dear, the only reason I could possibly have to be mad at you is for stealing a bit of my thunder. I couldn't be more _ecstatic!_" He looked from one to the other. "Do you know what this means? This means the Cabaret Fujinami can finally put on a show just like I've always dreamed, with big musical numbers and a chorus line and everything! Yessiree, you two are going to take me far. You just better remember this moment," he said, staring dreamily out over the head of the crowd at some indeterminate point on the far wall. "Because today is the day you boys become stars!"

Wonderful, Kasanoda and Tetsuya thought, their grins feeling quite a bit more strained now yet somehow managing to stay in place. This wasn't exactly what'd they'd planned for to happen when they first got the idea of doing their new friend a favor. Just what kind of shit had they landed themselves in this time?

* * *

A/n: I don't think I'm very good at describing dances. . . . But if you want to see the "Soran Bushi" in action, or any sort of yosakoi, a quick search on YouTube brings up lots of different performances.


	18. Now for something completely different

In the meantime, Akujiro and Akutaro were having little problem following the somewhat obvious trail Kasanoda had left behind.

They pulled in at the Hakone checkpoint in their stolen Vespa—a Vespa, it turned out, that rather magically seemed to never run out of gas—only to find to their surprise that they appeared to have gone back in time to 1807. And that the checkpoint was run by a rather eccentric, transgender governor.

"Hm, yes, I do seem to remember a couple of young men matching that description passing through here," he said, tapping his chin with a finger, the tip of which sported some elaborate nail art. "In fact, now that you mention it, they were a rather refreshing couple. Yes, very refreshing indeed."

"Refreshing?" parroted Akujiro.

"Mm-hm. Just what these hot summer days call for, if you ask me. More invigorating than a tall glass of ice-cool lemonade. If you'll excuse me a moment.

"Hey, you there, you worthless mutts!" the governor turned and yelled to a trio of young men who were busy repairing a rickety old fence, in a voice that was not at all refined or feminine. "Is that how a fence is supposed to look? What the hell's wrong with you? It's not that hard, you know. You just put one board up next to another and nail it in! And you're never going to score any Misuzu points in those sweaty shirts—"

"Forgive us, Your Honor! How right you are: it's so much cooler working in the hot sun with no shirt on, ha-ha!" said the one who appeared to be the ringleader—and who looked alarmingly like Kuze Takeshi now that the yakuza brothers got a decent look at his front side. He made a quick gesture to his companions, Tarumi and Tougouin's Edo-period twins, and all three promptly stripped off their shirts, tied them around their waists, and unhappily redoubled their efforts with the fence.

"That's better," said the governor. After a long, awkward stare, he shook himself and his attention back to Akutaro and Akujiro. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes. That redhead and his dashing servant."

"Tetsuya-botchan is no one's servant."

"Whichever. You say to-may-to. Yeah, they came by this way not too long ago, heading south on the main road if I'm not mistaken. They were so eager to stick together, 'til death do them part, I couldn't help but be moved. Ah, young love!"

Just thinking about it made him sigh and fan himself, but Akutaro and Akujiro exchanged suspicious glances. No way Tetsuya would go along with a murderer willingly, let alone as starry-eyed as this joker made him sound. Stockholm Syndrome, perhaps?

"Thanks," Akutaro said shortly. "You've been more help than you can imagine."

They hopped back on their magic Vespa, but something in the way the governor said, "M-m, now where do you think you're going?" made the two pause.

"Er, through the checkpoint?"

"Not until I say you're worthy, you aren't. Let's see something refreshing first."

The yakuza brothers looked at one another, then back at the governor. The governor stared at them both with his hands on his hips. No way he could be serious, Akutaro and Akujiro thought, but he was. Completely.

To make a long story short, the two had plenty of time over the next few days to become well acquainted with the checkpoint fence. After managing to come up with something sufficiently "refreshing" to get their wheels out of impound and be allowed through—which involved a ukulele, a kitten they kidnapped from someone's backyard, and a pineapple, and which the two vowed never to speak of again—they were back on the highway on their magic Vespa, and back on Kasanoda's scent.

The highway next took them past a big, dark and ancient house that looked like the Edo Adams family lived in it, where an intense-looking maid and tall, bald Lurch-esque secretary told them that, yes, they had seen the boys they were looking for.

"They were really charming fellows," the maid said, bouncing a toddler with pigtails on her knee. "Gutless as a filleted fish, but really nice company once you got to know them."

"Are you sure you're talking about the same guys?" said Akutaro.

"'Cause Tetsuya-botchan, yeah, he's well-mannered and all when he has to be, but the guy he's with is a real beast," said Akujiro. "I'm surprised he didn't try to kidnap your kid or steal her candy or something like that."

"Why would he do that?" said the maid. "Actually, though he may not be much to look at, the young miss has never had a playmate she enjoyed as much as that red-headed fellow."

"Now I'm _sure_ you've got the wrong guy," Akutaro muttered.

"Cat-demon!" the little girl shouted, pumping her little fists in the air in joy, and the yakuza brothers took that last statement back.

"Yes, Mr Cat-demon," said the maid. "We're rather grateful to him, to tell you the truth. He brought the young miss's estranged big brother back to us as well."

And so saying, she pointed with her thumb over at a black figure lurking in the doorway off the veranda like a very dark shadow. The yakuza brothers jumped, because he must have been there the entire time but they only just now noticed his presence. It was eerie, but even the bright noonday sun was unable to penetrate his little corner of the veranda, and the shadows seemed to rise up around him in murky tendrils heeding his beck and call.

"Yes," hissed the sinister, dark-robed figure. "If not for those kind gentlemen, I would even now be wandering the countryside like a lost soul that has been cursed for all eternity, scouring the lands for living energy to feed its thirsty gullet, but in a cruel irony, unable to swallow any of it. Indeed, if they had not opened my eyes, which were as if sown shut like the eyes of a dessicated corpse, I might never have realized that the precious thing I had left in search of was waiting right here for me all along."

He flashed his little sister a bright smile, but it only made her hide behind the maid with a trembling lip.

The yakuza brothers left them with more than one wary look over their shoulders, unable to believe that Kasanoda could have actually done something _good_ for other people. It must have been some sort of misunderstanding, they decided, some sort of language barrier between the Japanese of the twenty-first century and the early nineteenth.

That was the only explanation they could think of for the infatuation of the FRUiTS and Gothic Lolita types the two passed by a little while later, lounging like so many black and white cows with ringlets in a field on the side of the road. Tetsuya's charm they could understand, but the pictures the girls had on their cell phones of Kasanoda in drag was further proof that their sworn enemy had officially lost it. They were now dealing with a mad man. And while he was in such a fragile mental state, no one could say that Tetsuya wasn't in real danger of him snapping completely and going homicidal. Again. Time was now more than ever of the essence: they had to find the young master and rescue him as soon as possible.

They passed a strawberry field where they narrowly escaped being cursed and thrown in prison. Both came as some surprise to Akutaro and Akujiro, who swore the witch and diminutive daimyo hadn't looked nearly as paranoid as they in fact were when the two brothers first saw them out in the middle of the strawberries, enjoying a very happy un-birthday over their tea and cake.

"We just wanted to ask you a simple question!" Akujiro yelled over his shoulder as Akutaro gunned the Vespa's engine. At the moment, though, making their escape in one piece mattered more than information.

Then, as they were passing through the woods, they got carjacked. Even afterwards, the two brothers couldn't say for sure what had happened, only that the crippled beggar they passed several times along the way was without a doubt to blame.

The first time he stopped them, he was very helpful, telling Akutaro and Akujiro everything they needed to know about Kasanoda's movements—and what they were now sure was his deepening madness. But with each consecutive time they met him on the road, the beggar demanded more and more of them for his troubles. That wasn't what freaked Akutaro and Akujiro out, though. What freaked them out was the beggar's superhuman speed, because it seemed no sooner had they left him behind in the dust, hobbling on his crutch, than he was jumping out in front of their vehicle farther up the road. It was almost enough to make the yakuza brothers wonder if in fact _they_ were the ones who were losing it. Maybe his crutch was rocket-propelled, Akujiro suggested, but they ultimately agreed that a more practical explanation was that he was possessed.

As is inevitably the case, it only really made sense after said beggar was zooming away in _their_ stolen Vespa—and remarkably able-bodiedly at that—at which time Akutaro and Akujiro swore they heard two nearly identical maniacal laughs fading into the distance.

Whatever the real explanation may have been, it didn't change the fact that they were without a set of wheels and had no choice but to go it on foot from there on out.

They reached a wide bay, and boarded a ferry to get to the other side more quickly. When they asked the ferryman if he had seen anyone fitting Kasanoda and Tetsuya's descriptions come by that way, the man was very helpful.

"How could I not remember them?" he said. "The dumb fools brought a tanuki on board my ferry. Yeah, that's right. A real-live, wild tanuki. Might have been feral for all they knew, stupid brats. It scared my passengers half to death, anyway, not to mention robbing them while it was at it. But then, what more can you expect from such a despicable creature."

"You don't know the half of it," Akujiro said. "He murdered our boss and kidnapped the young master!"

"A tanuki did all that?"

"Not the tanuki, moron," said Akutaro. "That rotten bastard Kasanoda. The ugly, red-headed guy we're looking for?"

Despite what he had just said, the ferryman did a double take. "Really? No, I mean, he was dumb as a box of rocks, if you ask me, for bringing that thing on board and all, but he struck me as a total pussy."

"That's just an act—like camouflage," Akutaro said. "He really is crazy."

"Yeah, like a fox," said Akujiro.

The ferryman didn't know what else to say, other than that he had dropped the two travelers off on the opposite shore and washed his hands of them.

So when they reached the town on the other side of the bay, the yakuza brothers popped inside an inn for a bite to eat before picking up their quarry's scent once again, and found, sure enough, that Kasanoda and their young master had passed that way as well.

"They were really rude," said Chikazaemon, nursing a swollen bump on the side of his head. "No sense of manners whatsoever. To think they would offer _me_, Usagizuka no Chikazaemon, the sweet scraps from the table of that vile, degenerate Caligula of a creature I had the misfortune of being born after!"

He bolted up from his seat, waving his sheathed sword around, and was promptly yanked down by his retainer, almost sending him tumbling backwards over his bench. "Is that any way to talk about your older brother?" Satori scolded. "Really, he's more like a Nero at worst."

"I don't know," Tohru chuckled, ever the easy-going one. "We met the two on our wedding night, and the worst I'd say of them was that they were a bit clumsy. You might even say they 'crashed' the party—"

"Literally, dear, don't forget!" Kasuga let out a deep sigh. "Broke half of the new china we'd received as wedding gifts and then ran away without taking responsibility. Not how I'd planned to spend the happiest night of my life."

"They didn't mean it, darling. They just weren't being very careful is all, and can you blame them when they were obviously so in love—"

"L-l-love?" She shuddered. "Y-yeah right! I can spot a poor excuse a mile away."

"And a crack in a teacup lip," Tohru said affectionately. "Good eye, this one."

"So, none of you thought of alerting the authorities or nothing?" Akujiro asked them.

To which Chikazaemon and Satori just blinked at them. "Well, my brother's obsession with baked goods might be infamous, but there's nothing inherently _criminal_ about eating them—"

"We thought it'd be best for all parties not to raise a big stink about it," Tohru shrugged. "It wasn't like they did it on purpose."

"He's talking about the hostage situation!" Akutaro said.

"What hostage situation?" Kasuga said.

"The other guy who was with him, the one with the ponytail? Couldn't you tell he was being held against his will? Come on, it must have been so obvious! You're telling me he never once dropped you a secret note or something to indicate he needed help?"

Chikazaemon and Satori exchanged glances. "I don't know what you're talking about," said the latter. "It seemed to us like that guy wanted to go along."

"I did mention they were very much in love?" said Tohru, to which his wife just rolled her eyes.

Akutaro and Akujiro thought they were going to be sick at the mere thought.

"There was one thing that struck me as a little odd," Satori said pensively. "The scarier looking guy—Ritz, I think his name was? He did say they were from the future."

The yakuza brothers exchanged wary glances. And even though Chikazaemon assured his retainer that had just been a figure of speech, they thought it as good a time as any to make their exit.

"Yes, I remember them well. Those two swindling maggots ruined my dinner party."

Another town, and another group of characters who, this time, could more than testify to Kasanoda's being the villain—rather than the hero—of this story. They were sitting in the parlor of one Shoubu Ohana, who with her fellow disciples had just been discussing the latest installment of Hatori Bisco's yellow books over afternoon tea, and what trouble Sumomo and Wataridori and Ohatsu had gotten themselves into this time. The boys shifted uncomfortably from one knee to the other, trying not to say anything about their hostess and her guests being total fangirls who needed a life.

"Now that's more like it," Akutaro said.

"Do tell," Akujiro said, trying his hardest to sip his tea in a dignified fashion.

"They had the gall to come in here pretending to be Bisco-sensei and some made-up assistant named Crisco, spreading all these lies about Bisco-sensei really being a man, and meanwhile helping themselves to all the food I'd had prepared expressly for the real Bisco-sensei based on the favorites mentioned in her comic novels, and who was to be joining us for a party held in her honor in no less than an hour thence."

"I just feel sorry for Tetsuya-botchan," Akutaro said. "It must have been so embarrassing for him to have to go along with such a dastardly plan."

"Well, the blond one with the ponytail did kind of pressure him into it, if you ask me."

Akujiro's ropy lips fell slack. "Wait. . . . Are you saying it was Tetsuya's idea? No way, lady, you've got the wrong guy. He was coerced!"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

At this point, Shoubu Ohana paused to flip her hair back over her shoulder, which was rapidly turning into an angry mane of curls. The two boys were quick to assure her she was definitely not a liar.

"They made our fanclub look like a bunch of fools," she said with a murderous glare over her glasses, "and I looked like the biggest fool of them all. I'm telling you, I take my duties as chairwoman very seriously. This is not an offense that can go unpunished. If I ever see those two again, even King Enma himself would blush at what I'll do to them."

"Which is?" Akujiro said.

"I'll castrate the fuckers."

The writing brush Shoubu Ohana had been holding snapped in two in her furious grip. The yakuza brothers gulped, more thankful than ever they weren't Kasanoda.

"So anyway," their hostess resumed, nibbling daintily on a madeleine, "you have my blessing in hunting those ruffians down. Do let me know if there's anything else I can do to help."

"Er, I think you've done plenty. . . ." Akutaro said, starting to rise.

Just then another girl burst into the parlor, putting a stop to the yakuza brothers' hasty retreat.

"Turn on the tube, ladies!" she beamed. "Guess whose new single they're going to be debuting!"

"Country Genji?" someone tried.

"Close. It's Kiyoshi!"

Another girl got up and flipped on the little television set in the corner, and all the rest sat up a little straighter in anticipation as a colorful montage of music video clips flashed by in preview.

One of the groups looked a tad too familiar to Akutaro and Akujiro. They did a double take, before Akutaro leaped to his feet.

"That's them!"

"Those are they," Shoubu Ohana corrected.

"Whichever." He cranked up the volume, pointing at the two people on the screen. "That's Kasanoda and Tetsuya-botchan, the guys we're looking for!"

"You don't have to tell me twice. I told you I'd never forget their faces, didn't I?"

Akutaro and Akujiro stared at the Kasanoda and Tetsuya in the video clip, who were barely recognizable in their festival jackets and uncharacteristically goofy grins. "'Kuwana no Soran Bushi' by The Edo Boys?" Akujiro read the subtitles. "What the fuck is this?"

"It seems our mutual enemies have cut a single." Shoubu Ohana pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "As if their impersonating Bisco-sensei weren't insult enough. The nerve of those two, offending us sophisticated ladies' sensibilities with this rot!"

"It's on, it's on!" one of girls shouted.

"_Botchan?_" Akujiro and Akutaro said.

And were promptly shoved out of the way by Shoubu Ohana. "Not them, you dolts. Kiyoshi! Ah, I love him, he's so cu-u-ute!" she joined her fellow disciples in squealing.

The TV picture was all awash in flame, through which Kiyoshi came dressed in a bright red jacket with glittering flames on it, making some sort of gestures with his arms that seemed to go in time with the brassy melody but didn't really make any sense on their own. "I forgot how terrible enka videos are," Akutaro said to himself.

Not that anyone heard him. The fangirls were too busy clapping along to his "Ya-ren, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran—hai, hai!" and chanting an encouraging "Ki-yo-shi!" after each "Dokkoisho!" as if that cheesy but magnetic grin of his was indication he could really hear them through the TV screen. The yakuza brothers took the opportunity to sneak out the back.

But they could not escape the catchy power of the Soran Bushi.

At that moment, and for days to come, the whole country was singing "Ya-ren, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran," from the refreshing Hakone checkpoint to the Cabaret Fujinami, where Mr Fujinami himself made sure it stayed in the head of everyone who worked for him 24/7.

The Nekowara siblings were bonding over the arm movements, which the Gothic Lolita girls had soon perfected to military precision.

"Sweet, precious memories that make you want to cry," the owner of the inn in the enchanted forest warbled at his work, and the old man couldn't help joining in among the elements on his relentless pursuit of soup, "Won't you listen please, eh, O Mister Moon?"

"Ya-sa-e," Kumoru was singing somewhere from the back of a magical Vespa from the future, to which Hareru added, "En-ya-sa-no dokkoisho."

"Dokkoisho?" Lady Misha asked her annoyed palanquin carriers.

"_Dokkoisho!_" Lord Haninosuke's men all cheered together.

It was so bad that even Akujiro was caught singing later as they were walking down the highway, "Ya-ren, so-ran, so-ran, so-ran—"

"_Argh!_ Would you stop that?" Akutaro screamed, nearly throwing his pack of goods at his brother. "It's driving me crazy!"

"Stop what?"

"You were singing that damn song again!"

"I was?" Akujiro pouted. "Sorry, I didn't even know I was doing it. I guess I've just got it stuck in my head."

"I know. I've had it stuck in my head for the last three days straight, too." Akutaro let out a deep sigh. "What is it about that guy that every time he comes out with a new song you have to hear it literally everywhere?"

"But you have to admit, it is a pretty good song."

"Yeah, I guess it's pretty catchy," Akutaro grumbled.

It was just at that point that they crossed paths with a severe-looking old governess, coming out of the shady forest toward them. "Excuse me," Akutaro stopped her, "but is that the way to Ise through there?"

The old governess's lined eyes widened. "You two aren't seriously thinking of taking that old road at this late hour in the day, are you?"

"Um, yeah?" said Akujiro.

The old governess sighed. "I've had just about enough of you foolish young people, thinking you're invincible and somehow know better than your elders. You think it's sheer luck I've lived as long as I have? If you only knew what I've had to put up with. . . ." And she grabbed them both hard by the ears and turned them right back around toward town. "You two boys are spending the night right here in civilization, where it's safe—"

"But—"

"And no buts from you, mister! I promised myself I wasn't going to stand idly by and let another young fool get himself tricked and who-knows-what-else in those fox-infested woods, so you can kiss whatever plans you may have made for this evening goodbye. And if you're worried about finding something to do until nightfall, I can think of a bucket and mop back home with your names written all over them. Say, you boys like enka, don't you?"

Akutaro and Akujiro balked and struggled to get free, but it was useless. The old governess held their ears in a vice grip, and the two boys weren't exactly eager to pull a Van Gogh on this leg of their trip.

But we've followed this digression long enough. It's time we returned to the main players of this story.


	19. Bye bye, mein lieber Herr

Back at Fujinami's place, a miracle had occurred.

To be exact, it was a very small miracle, more like a miracle-in-progress, the point being that somehow Kasanoda's plan had paid off. Sure enough, after all their practice sessions, Oharu's dancing had improved considerably, and she could carry just enough of a tune that if everyone else sang really loudly along with her, you could hardly catch her mistakes. Which was fine by our two travelers, because they weren't exactly Johnny's boy material, either.

But natural performer though he was not, Tetsuya had to admit, however grudgingly, that the young master had done an excellent job of turning this particular sow's ear into a . . . well, a handsome handbag. The downside, however, came with the bright smiles and blushes the two shared, and the way their gazes seemed to lock together whenever Oharu surprised herself by nailing a line or step—

"Tetsuya. Hey, Earth to Tetsuya."

He shook himself out of his trance to see the young master waving for him to join them. "There's three people in this number, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh, right."

So Tetsuya put down the plate he'd been drying and his rag, grabbed his gold-painted boater, and hopped up onto the stage with the other two.

"Money makes the world go round," the three began, donning and doffing their hats and trying not to seem too awkward as they stepped in line, "The world go round, the world go round. Money makes—"

"More enthusiasm, Oharu!" Ranka clapped as he strode through. "Why must you be so luke-warm? We premier the new show in less than thirty-two hours, and we've got to open for brunch in just a bit! When do you think you're going to get another chance to practice with all those guests calling 'More tea!' 'Kara-age over here, please!'?"

"She's trying her best, Mr Ranka," Kasanoda tried, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"And how are we going to take care of all these tables when my three best servers are up on stage?"

"Isn't that what you hired those extra girls for?" Oharu grumbled, but her father had already moved on to lament something else.

Tetsuya exchanged glances with them and shrugged. By now they were used enough to this queen's drama not to take his grumblings as much more than thinking out loud.

He had surprised himself lately, Tetsuya had, with the realization that he actually enjoyed performing, even if it was only on an amateurish level. He still got jitters like crazy before going on, but it wasn't the attention and the applause of the crowd he liked so much as the happy trio the three of them made when they were stumbling through their routine. It was the warm feeling he got when he caught the young master beaming at him as they sang together, and the amazing progress Oharu had made thanks to Kasanoda's persistence.

And yet, as happy as he should have been, there was something about their arrangement that bothered him when he allowed himself to really think about it. As much as Oharu felt like just another one of the guys, there struck Tetsuya as something uneven about their equation, like there were one too many people in it.

And he feared that _he_ might be that extra wheel. Or perhaps more precisely, the unhitchable sidecar.

Still, he wasn't at all ready for Kasanoda to tell him, as they were walking about town that afternoon: "I think . . . I think I'm gonna stay here."

"What, you mean in Kuwana?"

After a moment's hesitation, Kasanoda nodded.

Tetsuya could hardly believe it. It had to be a joke. "You're kidding, right? Whatever happened to Ise? We agreed we were going to go together."

"I don't know, Tetsuya. Ise was always more your dream than mine. . . ."

Kasanoda ran his hand through his hair as he said so, avoiding Tetsuya's eyes. It did look like it was hard for him to say. After all, both had just begun to feel as though, after everything they'd been through—their accidental time-traveling, their misfortunes and embarrassments along the road—their luck was just starting to change for the better. Even so, there was no such thing as a good time to spring something of this nature on one's traveling companion.

"If you still want to go, I won't hold you back. I'll even give you my share of tips, just so you're well covered for expenses—"

"What are you talking about? I don't want your money, Waka! You think I would go to Ise without you—that I would just leave you here all alone, in the nineteenth century? After coming all this way together?" He took the young master by the arm, trying to get him to look Tetsuya in the face. "After everything we've been through, how could you even think I'd abandon you? For that matter, how could you do that to _me_? Hey, I swore to look after you like you looked after me when you took me in from the streets. Remember? I can't just go back on that."

"I'm not asking you to go back on anything, Tetsuya."

"Then what do you call sending me off to Ise without you? What is this really about?"

"I . . ."

Kasanoda blushed. But by the way he answered, it didn't appear to be from shame or embarrassment.

"I think I'm in love with Oharu."

Tetsuya couldn't help himself. He recoiled a step.

"I know it's kind of sudden, but, well, I was thinking that maybe I'd rather stay here with her at the cabaret. At least for a little while longer. I mean, I've got my whole life to see Ise—"

"Would you listen to yourself? You're the _last_ person who'd want to stay and work in a cabaret if he had any choice in the matter. And what about your great, undying love for Fujioka?"

The name apparently got through. Kasanoda shook his head, clearly in a conundrum. "That's different," he said. "My feelings for Fujioka don't matter as long as we're separated by two centuries—"

"Waka, not to overstate the obvious, but you're forgetting the part about him being a _guy_. I mean, I never thought you were gay exactly, even when you went through that 'lovely item' period. Believe me, I was the only one for a while there. But you have to admit that the resemblance between that kid and Oharu is just a little too—"

Kasanoda sighed.

"Tetsuya, Fujioka's a girl."

That blew the wind out of Tetsuya's sails. "Huh?"

"I never told you 'cause I swore I'd protect her identity. If anyone found out she was a girl, she'd have to leave the host club, and I didn't want that to happen because of something I did or said—even to someone outside of school. Even to you. It was so important to her, I didn't think it mattered what the guys thought of me at home as long as she was happy."

Tetsuya knitted his brow, shaking his head. It wasn't that he didn't believe it—in fact, now that the truth was out, he felt a little foolish that he hadn't figured it out for himself; Haruhi wasn't exactly a manly name to begin with—but he wasn't sure he wanted to. For some reason even he couldn't explain, the revelation hit him unreasonably hard. Maybe it was the realization, all of a sudden, that that slim glimmer of hope he had had for himself so long as he thought the young master was into another guy was up and gone. Really, it had never existed to begin with.

He hadn't thought he was being so obvious, but the devastation must have shown on his face, because Kasanoda said in such a small voice it broke Tetsuya's heart: "I'm sorry."

"For what?" For not telling him about the Fujioka kid sooner?

Or was it possible he'd known about Tetsuya's feelings all along?

"For dropping this bombshell on you all of a sudden. About me not going to Ise, I mean. I know how much it meant to you. I _was_ really excited about seeing it with you, believe me, and I know we probably should have talked this over before, but . . . Well, I guess that's what I'm trying to do now."

"Well, you picked a shitty way to go about it. Sorry to put it that way, but—"

"No, you're right. It was a dick move on my part."

"And what makes you so sure Oharu feels the same way about you, huh?"

It was Kasanoda's turn to knit his brows. Maybe Tetsuya was just being cruel by saying it, but it really didn't appear as though the thought had even crossed the young master's mind.

"Are you sure you want to give up _everything_ for some girl who doesn't even return your feelings?"

This trip, he thought, your life at Ouran? Our friendship? You took me in when you didn't even know who I was—_what_ I was—and I swore I'd do anything to pay you back. I'd give my life for you if I had to.

Was that something Kasanoda could say about this Oharu?

Of course, Tetsuya couldn't bring himself to say that out loud. It hurt too much to even think of what kind of answer he might receive if he did.

"You know . . . Never mind. Just forget I ever mentioned it. Do whatever you like, Waka, just like you always do. Maybe you're right and maybe she likes you too. And if she doesn't, hell, at least you'll have made your decision, right?"

Before Kasanoda could come up with an answer, Tetsuya turned around and walked quickly back toward Fujinami's, leaving the young master to ponder his last words. Could Oharu feel the same way about him? Now that he tried thinking about it from a point of view other than his own, he really had no way of knowing one way or another.

There was only one way to answer that question, and as much as Kasanoda dreaded it, he knew he had to confront Oharu. It wasn't like it would be his first time confessing, and even if that other time hadn't worked out, at least he could learn from his past mistakes. He was not necessarily fated to suffer the same humiliation twice.

But if he didn't find out once and for all what Oharu's feelings were, how could he ever prove his good intentions to Tetsuya? The last thing he wanted was for the guy who had, after the last few weeks, become the best and possibly only friend he had ever had to hate him over what he knew in his gut to be the right decision.

When he ran into a gloomy Tetsuya, literally, as the other was coming back out of the kitchen, Kasanoda knew what he had to do.

"Hey, Oharu?" he said to the girl, who was currently occupied steeping tea for some customers. "It's probably a bad time, but—"

"Not at all. I can multitask. What's on your mind?"

His tongue felt like a saguaro cactus after a rainstorm, but he pushed ahead. "No, really, I don't think there is a good time to say this, but I've got to get it off my chest, so I'm sorry if it feels like I'm pushing this on you all of a sudden. I've just . . ."

He took a deep breath. This was it. There was no turning back now.

"I've gotta know, Oharu. I've gotta know where we stand. See, over the past week we've been here, I've come to like you a lot. . . ."

"Mm-hm," Oharu said, placing cups on saucers. "I like you, too, Casanova."

His heart must have stopped for a moment in his chest. "Really?"

"Of course. I think we make a really good team, you and me and Tetsuya."

Kasanoda's shoulders slumped. The resemblance between the two girls, separated though they were by two centuries, really was uncanny, even below the surface. "No, see, that's not exactly what I mean. I don't wanna sound too forward or anything, but . . . You see, Oharu, girls like you only come along once every two hundred years, and—"

"Oh, I get it!"

"You do?"

Oharu stopped what she was doing and turned to face Kasanoda completely, eyes and smile wide.

"Sure, I do. And I feel the same way. Believe me, I'm really going to miss you and Tetsuya when you've left here for Ise. I know you guys only planned to stay for a short while anyway, but you've done so much for Dad and me, and I feel like we've become such great friends in that short amount of time, I want us to keep in contact even after you're gone. You can write me and tell me all about the Shrine when you get there. And anyway, you two can always stop by on your way back to Edo, right?"

Kasanoda could only stare at her dumbly for a moment. The way her big brown eyes stared up into his, there was nothing false or cruel in them. So why did it feel like he'd just been stabbed in the chest? Again. Could she really be so oblivious about what he was trying to tell her?

"Well, what do you say?" she said when he didn't answer. "Friends forever?"

It didn't feel like he was in control of his own mouth, but somehow Kasanoda managed to answer: "Friends forever."

"There!" Oharu sighed as she hoisted up her tray with the full teapot on it. "I feel so much better having said that. Oh. Was that all you wanted to talk about, Casanova?"

"Yeah," Kasanoda muttered, "that was it."

When she made to edge by him, though, something made him change his mind, something that he simply could not ignore this time.

"Wait a second."

He took the tray from her bewildered hands. "No. No, that's not all. I don't think I explained it all that well, Oharu, 'cause I don't think you're getting my point. What I'm trying to say is, I love you."

"O-oh."

That appeared to be the only thing, in her surprise, she could think of to say.

"Yeah." It wasn't the reaction he expected, but even though he could feel his face grow hot, he couldn't exactly stop now that the words were out. "This isn't like me, I know, but I have to say it. 'Cause if I don't, how will I ever know if I stand a chance, you know? This whole trip, it seems like all I've wanted to do is get it over with and go home, but ever since coming here I feel different. Like, being here with you somehow feels like I'm exactly where I need to be. I was hoping—I don't know—that maybe you felt the same way about me. If you don't, I'll never mention this again. I just . . ."

He took a deep breath.

"I had to check."

A long awkward moment went by during which he was afraid to meet Oharu's eyes. Would the third time be the charm, or the last strike?

After what felt to him like forever, she managed in a small, reluctant voice, "I'm sorry, Casanova. I . . . I guess I just don't see—"

He stopped her before he had to hear any more. "That's okay. You don't have to say it. I understand."

"It's not you, it's just I never realized—"

"No, I get it. Please, just forget I said anything, all right?"

He took the tray for her and pushed out the door before she could say anything else, only realizing then that he didn't know where he was supposed to deliver it. He just couldn't bear to hear any more. He hadn't thought striking out with the truth plainly in the open could hurt any worse than being rejected out of obliviousness, but it did. Like a thousand times worse.

Ranka must have noticed his sour mood as he went through his paces that evening—Tetsuya's as well—but aside from a reminder here and there about their show tomorrow, he kept his mouth shut, perhaps knowing instinctively that it was best for all involved not to mention what had happened.

The cold silence followed the two travelers up to their room, where they stubbornly ignored one another up until the time they got into their respective futons—and for the next few hours it took them to fall asleep. Tetsuya was still no doubt too angry with him to speak a word. And as for Kasanoda, he was too busy running through everything he'd said that day with a fine-toothed comb to nod off. If he'd chosen better words, he wondered, put his feelings in some more eloquent way, would things have worked out differently? Then again, maybe the connection he'd imagined existed between himself and Oharu was just that—in his imagination.

Maybe Tetsuya was right after all. He hated to admit it after that evening, but there it was. Fujioka was the one who'd always had his heart, no matter how much time separated them or how ignorant she was of it. Maybe he had only _thought_ he was in love with Oharu, when really it was the Haruhi she reminded him of that was the cause of this misguided infatuation. Was it even possible to be in love with two people equally at the same time?

Whatever the answer was, he and Tetsuya somehow awoke the next morning in better moods, and were able to plow through their song and dance number with Oharu that evening without the audience catching on to their tacit animosity backstage. The girl—even if she could feel the electricity in the air—kept her word and never uttered a peep about it as she left them alone to change into their next costumes.

In the meantime, Ranka was keeping their guests ample entertained, strutting with the chorus girls in matching lingerie and heels, shaking his tail feathers and making eyes at the audience beneath his bowler and whiteface.

When the number finished, he bowed low to the round of applause. He gestured to somewhere off-stage, upon which Oharu jumped on the spotlight and aimed the beam straight in his direction.

"_Willkommen,_, ladies and gentlemen," he crowed, "_bienvenue_, and welcome to the Cabaret Fujinami, the finest dinner theater on the Eastern Seaboard Highway. I am your host this evening—and what a fine evening it is. On a warm summer night like tonight, one can't help but meander down memory lane, and think back to a simpler time, when life was grand and everyone—" he smirked "—knew everything—" raised an eyebrow "—about everyone."

The drummer tapped the drums and the audience chuckled politely.

"Why, can't you just picture them now, the soft red lights of lanterns bobbing along the streets of the floating world. . . ."

His tone took on a dreamy quality, while all around him, just out of the circle of the spotlight, chorus girls flitted about and into place.

"The cries of newborn cicadas drying their wings on the trunks of the trees. . . ."

Someone in the orchestra rubbed a stick over a washboard three times in a grating drone.

"The perfume of beautiful flowers enticing busy bees to every window of the pleasure quarter. . . ." One hand to his chest, the other extending longingly, Ranka chuckled to himself. "Why, it's enough to make you . . ."

He drew in a deep breath. The audience held theirs in anticipation.

"Swoon."

The music had started back up again, a sultry doo-wop rhythm; and with an airy "doo-doo-ah" from the chorus girls to lead him into it, Ranka sang:

"Lay your head against my pillow book  
The embers have all burnt down to soot  
I've waited 'til the late-rising moon  
All alone in my weaving room

"Come on, babe, why d'you take so long  
While the cuckoo sings his lonesome song  
And morn dew drops 'midst the tangled vine  
Go ask the sun if she can spare us some time

"When pleasure's fleeting as a summer dream," he continued as he strutted out toward the audience with the slow, swinging stride of a master oiran, his brows furrowed beneath the shade of his hat in Garbo-esque longing, "a lover's world is floating down a stream/ like the old poems made it seem. . . ."

As the audience whistled their encouragement, he tore off his bowler and flung it into the crowd. Two chorus girls came up behind him to slip a brocaded kimono over his shoulders, while another crowned his coiffed hair with an oiran's headdress, spilling down kanzashi that twinkled in the spotlight.

"His name was always Genji, and he had to have his way  
And she'd sigh like that Komachi kid, and swear he couldn't stay  
She's pretty sure she loves him, but that doesn't mean she likes him  
It's the morphine for the masses, it's a scene out of ukiyo-e"

He relished the last note, luxuriating in the kimono around him like one might a fur coat. In the meantime, the rest of the chorus had created around the Mt Fuji backdrop a scene straight out of the Shochiku Studios logo, complete with billowing clouds of silk, and the light hit streamers behind its peak in a rainbow of sparkling rays just like the opening of a Toho film. It drew a round of ooh's and ahh's from the audience.

At her post on spotlight duty, Oharu yawned.

"How sentimental!"

The audience started and turned to see who had disrupted the song, but Ranka's own gasp was not quite so spontaneous. "Bossa Nova and Tetsuya, w-what a surprise! Whatever could be the meaning of this? You're not due to come back out on stage yet!"

Of course, though he cringed like a B-movie siren, the two were, in fact, right on cue.

Kasanoda and Tetsuya emerged from stage right like a couple of disco balls in their new costumes: wide-shouldered samurai jackets of padded silver lamé, each sporting a big lightning bolt on its back, silvery-white trousers that were more than just a little too snug, and knee-high platform boots. Somehow they had gotten Tetsuya's ponytail to stand straight up backstage, and Kasanoda had developed a rather greasy Jheri curl, but both managed to look more uncomfortable than intimidating, despite the wicked-looking guns they were pointing in Ranka's general direction.

"On the contrary. It is _you_ whose time is up, nineteenth-century man," Kasanoda said.

"Say so long to old times," Tetsuya added. "We've come here from the future to shake it up and break it up."

"Don't anyone move!" Ranka told the audience. "They've got ray guns!"

"That's right," Kasanoda said in his most menacing voice. "Ray guns capable of emitting a beam of pure inner—"

He trailed off and lowered his gun, turning to Tetsuya. "Dude, I can't do this."

"What are you doing?" Tetsuya hissed. "I know it sounds really gay, but would you just say your stupid lines so we can be done with it already!"

"I can't. They're . . . they're just so stupid. Not to mention I . . ." He looked down at himself. "I look like a friggin' Buck Rogers microwave dinner."

"Well, I can't say I don't know what you mean." Tetsuya tugged on the hem of his own jacket with his free hand. "I feel like everyone can see my junk in this outfit."

"Right? It's ridiculous."

"It . . . it is not ridiculous!" Ranka sputtered. "It's the sexy futuristic look! That's how people dress in the future! How else are we supposed to know you came here to change the world and bring brighter days, and all that rainbowy, Xanadu shit? And what about _me_?" he stage whispered at them through gritted teeth. "This is our big finale, you can't ruin it like this!"

"It _is_ Dad's favorite part," Oharu muttered in reluctant agreement from behind the spotlight.

"This isn't how we did it in rehearsal!"

"Sorry to do this to you, Mr Ranka," Kasanoda said, "especially in the middle of the show. But, see, me and Tetsuya—we quit."

Tetsuya started. "We do?"

"Well, yeah. We have a pilgrimage to make."

Kasanoda turned to grin at him then, and Tetsuya had to fight back a sudden rush of tears. He just prayed this wasn't an awful joke with him at the butt of it. "You . . . you mean it? I'm not just hearing things."

"I sure do mean it. I said I'd go with you all the way to Ise, and it's about time I kept that promise."

"But what about Oharu?"

"It's all in the past. I thought long and hard about things, and . . . Well, it's like they say, right? Bros before hoes."

He looked quickly at Ranka and Oharu in turn, saying, "Not that I'm implying your daughter's a prostitute, Mr Ranka. O-or that I would ever think of her that way. I wouldn't! It's just something people say where we come from. Like a figure of speech. You know, in the future—"

"No offense taken," Oharu said as though she couldn't care less.

"Well? What do you say, Tetsuya? Are we going to finish this mission or aren't we?"

Poor Tetsuya was biting his lip, trying really hard to be a man and not lose it completely in front of all the strangers watching them. "I'm so happy I could kiss you, Waka."

Kasanoda glanced at the audience. "Please don't."

"Okay."

"Wait one gosh-darn minute!"

Ranka was already charging back up onto the stage—as well as he was able, anyway, in the long, heavy kimono. He seized the ray gun from Tetsuya's hand without any trouble, pointing it between the two of them. "You can't do this to me! After all I've done for you two—"

"I know," Kasanoda said. "It's a dick move. But believe me, we are really grateful to you and your daughter for all you've done. We just have to go back."

"_Back?_ Back _where?_"

"Back to the future."

"Come on, Waka, let's get out of these spacesuits," Tetsuya said, and the two hurried back off-stage to go and retrieve their things.

"But the show! I command you to stay and finish what you started! You have any idea how unprofessional this is?"

Ranka pulled the trigger, but the tip of the toy gun just whizzed around and shot ineffectual little sparks. The chorus girls could only stand and stare after the two young men who had ruined their number as their boss collapsed in a puddle of brocade, wailing, "You can't abandon me like this, it's not fair! Oh, what a cruel world!"

It took a full minute before he comprehended that the deafening noise that was drowning him out was of applause, and almost half another one to realize that rather than filing toward the doors, the audience was giving them a standing ovation.

With surprising grace, Ranka shot to his feet, gesturing wildly for Oharu to wake up and get the spotlight back on him. In its blinding light he bowed and curtsied profusely, grinning ear to ear, as if he had planned it all along, every last word.

"Yes, a cruel world indeed," he added with the flawless, warbling precision of a noh actor: "this floating world of dreams!"

* * *

A/n: A lot of obscure cultural references in this chapter, namely in Ranka's song, which is supposed to be to the tune of Bowie's "Drive-in Saturday" in case anyone cared. Just about everything mentioned in it is reference to the imagery used in the old Japanese poems to evoke love-sickness and nighttime trysts and the ephemerality of youth, yadda yadda—except for the pillow book line, which is just a reference to Sei Shonagon's book. _Ukiyo-e_ is a type of painting associated with the "floating world" of the pleasure quarters in the early Edo period (seventeenth century or thereabouts), of which the _oiran_ was the highest class of courtesan, the ultimate in everything aesthetic and unattainable. Not that this is meant to be that serious. . . .


	20. Sidetrack and snake oil

Between Kasanoda and Tetsuya's stay in Kuwana and their own detention in various locales along the way, it turned out that Akutaro and Akujiro were little more than a day behind their quarry, a fact they learned when they stopped over at the Cabaret Fujinami for food and drink.

"Don't remind me of them!" Ranka lamented, throwing his head down onto his arms with a tinkle of kanzashi. "I swear, I should have it up on a sign. Those two will be the death of me, running out like that without a word of warning. I'm ruined—ruined, I tell you!" And he degenerated once again into unintelligible sobs and sniffles.

"Oh, stop exaggerating." It was Oharu who said this as she delivered the boys' drinks. She laid a bowl of soup in front of the table's other occupant and folded her tray to her chest. "You always knew they would leave us eventually."

"I just didn't plan on them stomping all over your heart on the way out like that, Oharu."

"_My_ heart? You mean yours, don't you? I couldn't be happier for them! They're out there living their dream, and goodness knows you should be able to sympathize with that as well as anyone." When Ranka covered his face in his kimono sleeves again, Oharu sighed. "He's just disappointed because they didn't go by the script during his big finale," she explained to the two boys.

"They _walked out on it_, dear," Ranka moaned, blowing his nose on a napkin. "You were there. You saw it."

"He?" Akutaro and Akujiro said.

"Yeah, I saw it. And you got a standing ovation! Honestly, Dad, I don't know what your problem is."

"_Dad?_"

"Are you talking about that haggard-looking red-headed fellow and his easy-going retainer?"

The two boys looked over at the table's other occupant who had spoken, and did a double-take. "Vice-principal Kazama?"

"Yes," Ranka sniffled, "those are the ones. What, have they gotten their just rewards? Oh, do tell me they have!"

Oharu slapped him with her towel, knocking his headdress askew.

"Why, what a small world it is after all," said the old man. "I just happened to pass those two lads as I was coming here from the Kameyama station. Judging by the path they were taking, I would surmise that they were heading up the same slopes I was descending. You see, I had made the hike up into those misty mountains in hopes of tasting the miraculous waters that are said to flow there. Perhaps, I said to myself, I would rediscover the very taste for which I have spent my whole life searching, that certain _je ne sais quoi_ of broth, an I-don't-know-what of stock which exists even now as only a memory in the tastebuds, waiting to be rekindled at the first sip."

As he told this story, Akutaro and Akujiro's minds began to drift to more important matters—like trying to remember from the geography class they never paid attention in where Kameyama was, and how to get there from where they were.

"My dear sir," Ranka said, peeking sideways at the old man, "I know I may not seem like the best person to say this, but don't you think there's such a thing as having too narrow a one-track mind?"

If the old man had heard him, he gave no indication.

"In fact," he said suddenly to the whole table, "I consider myself fortunate to have crossed paths with those two young men—not just once, but four times so far on my travels. If not for them, I would never have come across the most amazing invention—and, in fact, the only soup to ever come close to that magnificent ambrosia of a stew I tasted in my own youth. Behold."

And here he withdrew a Styrofoam pack from his bag, which produced the dull rattling sound that only dehydrated peas and meaty bits rattling around inside a Styrofoam container could produce.

"It appears to be some sort of miracle soup ration. All the flavor remains locked inside in this dry, easily transportable form. Then, when one is ready to sup, he need only add hot water and—voila!—an instant bowl of ramen."

"Would you look at that," Ranka said, looking it over. "Is it any good?"

"It has a salty, generic flavor I find most satisfying after a grueling day on the road."

"What an ingenious invention!"

"Yeah, um, I hate to break it to you guys," said Akujiro, "but you can get those at, like, any vending machine in Tokyo in the future."

"There you go with your blasted future again!" Ranka groaned. Oharu did her best to comfort him, but all in vain.

Kasanoda and Tetsuya, in the meantime, were somewhere in the hills far from the Cabaret Fujinami, just as the old man had said. Nor could their thoughts be any further from whatever was going on there. The road they were traveling was steep at times, but they kept in high spirits, perhaps fueled by the promise of an Ise growing ever closer.

"Priest!" Tetsuya shouted, pointing ahead of them a ways.

"Aw, you're right." Kasanoda grumbled, but it was more for show as he took their bags from Tetsuya and hoisted them over his shoulders. "Hey, Tetsuya? You're not mad at me after what I said back in Kuwana, are you? I mean, you're _really_ not mad?"

It had to be the millionth time he'd asked that since they left the checkpoint, but by now Tetsuya just chuckled every time he heard it.

"Oh, come on, you know I'm not. I mean, I was for a while there, thinking I might lose you, but none of that really matters anymore, does it? We're still heading for Ise together, aren't we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Which is all for the best, if you ask me. Not to be a prick about it or anything, but it wouldn't have worked out with Oharu anyway. You two being born two hundred years apart and all."

"No, you do have a point. Besides." Kasanoda grinned to himself, hardly even feeling the weight of the bags on his back. "The way I figure, the sooner we get to Ise, the better chance we have of returning to our own time. Right?"

Tetsuya glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"See, I think I had my priorities all mixed up. You know? Like, working in the cabaret around Oharu kept reminding me of Fujioka, so it got to the point I thought I was in love with her when I was really just in love with how much she reminded me of Fujioka. Once we get back to our own time, though, and I get back to my old school, that'll all just be water under the bridge."

Tetsuya had to bite back a rebuttal, because it really did feel like dying a little bit inside to hear the young master going on again about the Fujioka kid. As if their last argument about that very subject hadn't changed anything. It turned out Tetsuya was no better off now than when they had started this trip, back in the young master's living room.

But bickering about it wasn't going to change anything. Best to just concentrate on getting to Ise, he decided, and enjoy what time he had alone with Kasanoda while it lasted.

"Aw, well!" Tetsuya said, breaking into a grin. "We're on our way to Ise with plenty of good, Edo money in our pockets. Hell, however this whole space-time continuum crap works, I'm just happy to have the old Waka back."

He nudged the young master with an elbow in the familiar way he usually only dared during rounds of kick-the-can, and Kasanoda couldn't help the grin that pulled hard at the corner of his mouth as well. Enough second-guessing himself where Oharu was concerned. Maybe this was exactly where he needed to be after all. Here with Tetusya, on their way to the Ise Shrine.

"Nun!"

"What? Already? That doesn't count."

"It totally does." Kasanoda was already pushing the bags back into Tetsuya's arms. "Rules is rules."

"Okay . . . but there's three of them. Ha!"

"Odd number, dumbass. You still lose."

"Aw, spoiled brat," Tetsuya whined, but he took the bags without further complaint.

Kasanoda just smiled at that as he walked alongside with his hands in his pockets. Considering he was the one with the lighter load, he figured the comeback went without saying this time.

A little farther up, they came to a particularly crowded stretch of road. There was a clamor of people making their way up a little side lane, many of whom were clergy—so many, in fact, the boys forgot about their game.

"What's going on up there?" Kasanoda asked a young man who was coming back down the trail.

"Just some sort of snake oil charmer, not worth the time and effort—"

"Don't listen to him," said a young lady, to which the friend who had linked arms with her added, "Suzuo-dono is one of his generation's greatest minds—a real spiritual genius for this new age."

"Plus he's _so_ hot."

"Oh my god—I know, right!"

And the two degenerated into a fit of mutual squeals and fan waving. Noting the name and smiling cartoon visage on said fans, Kasanoda stopped them: "Wait, wait, wait. Who's this Suzuo guy you're talking about?"

Tetsuya blinked.

The two girls gawked at them. "You mean you don't _know_?"

Another ten-minute walk up a winding path—and much protesting on Kasanoda's part that they were wasting valuable time on this side trip—took them to the source of the hullabaloo.

There they found a shallow cave carved out of the rock face, the back of which was made up as a shrine, festooned with paper streamers and smoking sticks of incense, a photograph on the altar they could just barely make out of a young man holding his chin in a thoughtful manner. Off to one side, eager young ladies were selling souvenirs to even more eager, even downright rabid other young ladies, while worshipers shelled out coins to ladle water out of a nearby spring.

It all revolved around a big well in front of the cave, and the same charismatic young man as from the photograph, who was standing beside the well on a mound of rock and calling for attention.

The two boys managed to push in closer for a better view.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the young man began when the crowd at last was settled, "I give you the one, the only, the incomparable Taira no Suzuo!" He bowed grandly. "My humble self."

Kasanoda gaped. "I don't believe it."

Though perhaps he should have known better by now. The "Suzuo-dono" the girls on the trail had been gushing about was none other than Suou Tamaki himself—or at least his Edo doppelgänger—from the charming, heavy-lidded gaze and self-serving smile, down to the exact flip in his dark blond hair. He was wearing a tall black court cap over it, and there was nothing at all humble about his robes either, aside perhaps from the fact that he had tied up his sleeves—all the better, it seemed, to wave his fan around in wild gestures.

"Now, I know you might be asking yourselves," this Suzuo went on, "what this lowly great-great-great-grandson of St Francis Xavier, this great-great-great-great-great-grandson of Taira no Atsumori—that's right, you can look it up—is doing on a hilltop in the middle of nowhere. . . ."

"Can you believe this guy?" Tetsuya whispered. "That must have been one helluva immaculate conception, since Francis Xavier was a celibate Jesuit missionary, and Atsumori was beheaded by Kumagae no Naozane when he was sixteen!"

Kasanoda shushed him.

Suzuo went on.

"Well, I will tell you what! He has been entrusted with an ancient secret the likes of which the world's kings would send their great navies out to the ends of the earth for—a secret passed down over the centuries from generation to generation, until the time a son was born who could fulfill the prophecy and bring the light of the hidden Taira treasure to the world! Well, my friends, that time is the present, and that son is the one you see standing before you. And that treasure I spoke of? Why, it flows beneath our very feet, and today I shall share it with you all—practically for free!"

He stretched out his arms, and there was an appreciative round of applause.

After it had gone on for a satisfactory length of time, Suzuo cleared his throat, and continued:

"But, Suzuo-dono—you might be asking right now—what is the Taira treasure anyway? It is a spring, called the Water of Life by poets and philosophers of all nations, but known to locals as the Suzutani: a spring whose pure mountain waters, imbued with all the divine minerals planted there by the gods, has been known to work wonders, curing everything from boils and bad breath to baldness and poverty!"

"That's a bold claim," Tetsuya muttered under his breath. "It's probably contaminated with lead, if anything."

"You don't believe me? I have seen its powers with my very eyes, and soon so shall you! May I have a volunteer from the audience?"

Suzuo picked an old woman from the crowd and waited as she hobbled up next to him. He was quick to loop his arm about her and ask her ever so sweetly her name and malady. The old woman all but swooned as she stuttered an answer, though his laying on of charms struck Kasanoda and Tetsuya as more than a little thick.

"This poor woman suffers from the debilitating effects of arthritis," Suzuo clarified for his audience. "But one application of the miraculous waters of the Suzutani Spring and she will find her step as springy and limbs as limber as a young filly's once again."

So saying, he dumped a bowl of said water over the old woman's head without any sort of warning, and as if that weren't enough to give her a heart attack, his sudden: "Begone, devils of stiffness!" yelled right in her ear should have done the trick.

The old woman wobbled backwards in shock to be caught by her family members. But after a moment to catch her breath, she was on her own two feet again, swearing breathlessly: "Why, I feel twenty years younger already!"

"Yes, limber enough to dance at the village festivals," Suzuo crowed to the crowd. "And you too can feel my water's miraculous effects for yourself, when you take home vials of extra-strength, concentrated Suzutani water for the rock-bottom bargain price of six hundred coppers apiece! Or try my special Suzuo-dono's Daily Tonic—which, when taken in addition to a healthy diet, has been suggested to possibly extend life! Makes a great base for soup or marinade, or boil your tea in it for a healthy and refreshing drink."

As he said this, he began to ladle samples out from a bucket to eager customers.

"I don't believe this snake oil shit. Do you, Waka?"

"I don't know. I guess it does sound a little too good to be true."

"Too good to be true? That woman was obviously a plant. She's probably not even forty."

Tetsuya had merely been trying to make sure the young master heard him above the clamor, but apparently in doing so he had made himself a little too well heard. Suzuo stopped what he was doing, and within seconds the rest of the crowd had fallen silent and joined him in staring disapprovingly at the two boys.

"My, my," said Suzuo. "It seems we have a skeptic in our midst."

Kasanoda was nonplussed. "Uh, er, no, that's okay. He was just thinking out loud."

Suzuo just shook his head sadly.

"If there's one thing that saddens me, it's the hopelessness of a non-believer. I cannot in good conscience let you gents leave now without experiencing the wondrous powers of my water for yourselves. Then, if you are still unsatisfied, at least I will have done my sacred duty as the Suzutani heir."

"That's really not necessary," Tetsuya began, but he was cut off.

"But I see no ordinary sprinkling will do for you tough customers. No, sir. For you, nothing short of the full awesome power of the spring itself will be enough to convince you of its majesty. Behold: the Well of Well-Wishers!"

When Kasanoda and Tetsuya could only exchange glances, Suzuo waved them forward. "Well? Come on, I haven't got all day."

"What do we do?" Kasanoda said.

Suzuo waved more impatiently this time, with a look on his face like he couldn't believe he was talking to such imbeciles. "Throw in a coin and make a wish, of course!"

Kasanoda reached into his pocket, but Tetsuya clamped a hand over his wrist before he could let anything go. "What are you doing? You know you won't actually get a wish, don't you? It's a scam, pure and simple. You're just gonna throw away our hard-earned money like that on some hokey . . . hoax?"

"_Our_ hard-earned money? Hey, busing tables isn't exactly a team effort—or maybe you don't know how hard I had it because you don't have a face that scares little kids."

Tetsuya hadn't even known he was touching on a sore spot. He blinked. "Excuse me. All I was saying was that maybe you should save your money for Ise, since you want to get there so badly."

"It's my money, I earned it, and I'll do with it what I want, thank you very much. Besides—I _told_ you it was a waste of time, but you just _had_ to come up here on this stupid side trip—"

"_Me?_"

"Yeah! And you've done nothing but complain about it the whole time!"

For a moment, Suzuo could only stare back and forth at them. Where the situation had taken such a wrong turn was beyond him.

"Now, hold—hold on just a second," he tried. "Will you two just chill? All your bad vibes are going to ruin my spring's energy—"

"You keep out of this!"

Finding himself suddenly the target of both young men's frigid glares, Suzuo backed away.

Tetsuya turned back to the young master, narrowing his eyes, and picking up right where they had left off. "You calling me a hypocrite, Waka? Is that what you're saying? You sure you really wanna go there?"

"I don't need to take this shit from you—"

"Then why don't you just make your stupid wish already so we can go. Huh? So we can go to Ise and get back to our own time, so you can get back to beating yourself up full-time over a girl who doesn't love you and never will—"

Kasanoda rounded on him. "That's low, Tetsuya, even for you. Where do you get off talking to me about Fujioka?"

"Why not?" A wry grin tugged at the corner of Tetsuya's mouth. "If this well is so mighty and powerful, why don't you just wish to be back in the year two-thousand seven, huh? Fuck it—why don't you just wish for Fujioka to fall madly in love with you already? That's why we're here, isn't it? That's the only reason you even considered coming in the first place."

"Maybe you're right, Tetsuya, 'cause I certainly never wanted to come with you. You think I actually like getting lost in the Edo period, running around without sleep or a decent meal every night, or—or having to humiliate myself in front of a huge audience every night in some gay-ass musical number with you?" Kasanoda shook his head, fingers tangled in his own hair. "Fuck no, man. You're damn right this wasn't what I had in mind at all. In fact, I never even wanted to go to Ise in the first place! I only went because _you_ said we'd be back before anyone even noticed we were gone!"

Tetsuya started. "You spoiled ass! And here I thought— Then all that bullshit about us being friends—"

"You wanna talk about friends? What kind of _friend_ gets you into one shitty situation after another and doesn't even bother to apologize?"

"You want a fucking apology, Waka? I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry I ever suggested this stupid trip because I thought it might actually be fun to spend some time with you. Happy now?"

"Yeah? Well, I'm sorry I ever brought you home in the first place. I'd be better off and back, safe and warm, in my own living room right now if it weren't for you!"

Even though they had no idea what the context was behind the argument, some of the crowd gasped a bit at that.

Tetsuya couldn't believe what he was hearing himself. "You don't mean that." His fists clenched at his sides; he'd never even considered the possibility of striking the young master before, but now, even after all that self-discipline he'd put himself through, he found the urge to sock him almost irresistible. "You better not fucking mean that!"

"Gah, I hate you so much, I wish—I wish I'd never met you!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! _Shut up!_"

"_I wish you'd just leave me the fuck alone!_"

It all happened so fast then. Kasanoda pushed past Tetsuya a little too hard, throwing Tetsuya off balance before he could catch himself. His last words echoed loudly off the well's walls, and Kasanoda caught just a glimpse of Tetsuya's form pitching over sideways before he disappeared down the well. The crowd, caught up in the drama and not at all sure what to make of it, fell eerily silent. And by the time Kasanoda was able to shake himself out of his own disbelieving daze and rush to the side of the well, there was no sign of Tetsuya whatsoever. He hadn't even made a sound as he fell.

It was Suzuo's gasp that broke the silence.

"_What did you just do?_" he shrieked.

Kasanoda could only gape and shake his head. Everything had happened so quickly he felt numb all over, as if waiting for reality to catch up. "I-I don't know."

"You just pushed that guy down the well! Do you realize what this means?" Suzuo grabbed him by the collar. "You sonuvabitch, _I'm not insured for this!_"

He let go of Kasanoda, grabbing at his own hair instead and throwing the courtier's cap from it. "Argh, what am I going to do?" he moaned. "This is it for me! I'll never recover!" People stared and whispered anxiously among themselves, wondering if it had all been part of the act or if they should alert the authorities—and if Suzuo's water had such miraculous healing powers, why he didn't just use them to get the fellow out of the well.

It all started to run together in Kasanoda's mind, and the world spun up to meet him. As the full weight of what he had done slowly began to sink in, he sank to his hands and knees, looking over the lip of the well. Only an impenetrable black hole stared back—as if Tetsuya hadn't merely fallen down into the earth somewhere below them, he'd fallen into the bowels of space-time itself.

None of it should have happened. Less than ten minutes ago, he and Tetsuya had been so tight, like two peas in a pod, looking forward to seeing Ise together. It was still too much for him to comprehend—the fact that, somehow, without even knowing what he was doing, he had just murdered his best friend.

When it finally did sink in, that was when Kasanoda blacked out.


	21. And viewers like you

He awoke to the cheery strains of a TV weather forecast, and raised his head to find he had fallen asleep with his face on the coffee table again, and furthermore that one cheek felt a bit flat and numb. Again.

Kasanoda blinked and took in his surroundings, surprised to see that he was in his living room back home. There was a plate of apple slices on the table, and a steaming cup of tea by his elbow. There was a soft glow of daylight on the other side of the screen doors. The weather girl was forecasting clear skies over the Kanto region for the rest of the week.

"The hell? Am I dead?"

"Not dead. You merely blacked out there for a while. Went into zombie mode and passed out. Happens more commonly than you think when people fall under a great deal of stress all at once."

Kasanoda jumped back. He hadn't been aware there was anyone else in the room, but all of a sudden he looked up to find a young woman—with tawny hair held back in a loose bun with a large red bow—sitting across the table from him, kneeling on a cushion and cradling a hot cup of tea in both hands, and looking for all the world like a prim and proper young Showa-period housewife.

"How'd you get into my house?" Kasanoda asked her.

"_Your_ house?" She looked around, before shrugging with a small "Eh," and deciding it wasn't worth explaining in detail. "Look, I'll just skip all the formalities and get to the long and short of it. Alright, old chum? The name's Ringo and I'm a shinigami—"

"Shinigami? Then they _do_ exist. . . ."

"As I was saying? Thank you. I came here for one reason and one reason only: because you murdered your best friend."

"Murdered?" Kasanoda echoed once again. "Hey, lady, I don't know what you think you saw, but it was an accident!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you mean you _accidentally_ told him you wished he'd disappear from your life altogether and _accidentally_ pushed him into a well? Yeah, I guess that can be easily misconstrued. What can I say? My bad."

Shinigami or not, her sarcasm was quickly getting on his nerves.

"I-I don't remember what I said _exactly_ . . ."

"I believe the exact phrase you used was: 'I wish you'd just leave me the fuck alone.'" Ringo blinked. "Did I leave out anything?"

No, Kasanoda had to admit, and not without a great deal of remorse: that had pretty much summed it up.

"Then, I guess you're here to take my soul as punishment for my crime, huh?" he asked.

Ringo looked at him sideways. "Now, why would I do that?"

"I don't know. You tell me. I don't know what reasons shinigami usually decide to show themselves to us mortals for. Unless—" It came to him all of a sudden, and hope lit up his face. "There's a way to bring him back! I can undo what I did, is that it? That's it, isn't it?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses there, poptart!" Ringo set down her teacup with gravitas. "No one's _suggesting_ we shinigami actually have _ways_ of bringing people back from the _dead_. That would just be . . ." She stuffed an apple slice in her mouth, muffling her "preposterous."

"Then what are you doing here?"

As Ringo raised the teacup to her lips, the TV set behind Kasanoda changed channels all on its own.

The program that was on looked to be one of those in which antiques were appraised, and some expert with a snooty voice and even snootier suit was currently examining some sort of ugly, brownish ceramic jug like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "Well, it's definitely Roseville," he was saying, "and judging by the Art Deco style here it was probably made sometime during the late-Taisho period, maybe early-Showa. May I ask how you came to have it?"

"Well, I passed by this estate sale on my way back from groceries, and they were only asking a thousand yen for it—"

Kasanoda stood up so fast he hit his head on the light box. "Hey, it's Tetsuya!" he exclaimed.

Sure enough, the bright-eyed, grinning young man on the screen was none other than his departed friend, and if the ponytail and Band-Aid on the cheek weren't proof enough, the voice was unmistakable. Kasanoda would have recognized it blindfolded.

"Do you have any idea how much it's worth?" the expert was asking him, and Tetsuya smiled bashfully.

"Oh, I don't know. I just hope I get a good return for my money, is all. . . ."

"Well, if I put this vase on the auction block today, in this pristine condition, I expect it might bring—"

The appraiser rounded off a figure that Kasanoda, for all his attending an academy for rich snobs, would have thought was way too much for an ugly little brown vase, had he actually been paying any attention to that part. The palms of his hands were stuck to the set, and his face very nearly was as well. As if, if he concentrated hard enough and pressed really close, he could reach in and pull Tetsuya out of the set and into this living room.

Tetsuya's whole face lit up in surprise. "Get the fuck out of to— I mean, seriously? That much? Whoo-hoo! Holy moley, I had no friggin' idea! Wow. Oh, man. Waka's gonna be so excited to hear this—"

"This program is brought to you commercial-free by the good folks of public television. We'd love to show you more, but we can't do it without the generous support of viewers like you. If you want to see more programs like this one without the constant bother of commercial interruption, consider making a monetary contribution to your nearest public television station—"

"_Aahhh?!_" Kasanoda bellowed at the screen—and at the phone number surrounded by some soft, flowery background that had interrupted the happy Tetsuya. He grabbed the set so hard he nearly pulled it over on top of himself. "_What the hell is this?_ Pledge drive, at a time like this—you've gotta be fucking kidding me! Return to the regularly scheduled programming!"

"—operators are standing by—"

"Phone, phone. . . ." He patted his pockets for his cell, then looked wildly around the living room until his gaze landed on Ringo. "Call the number and donate already! We need to bring him back!"

Ringo just continued to calmly sip her tea. A flick of her mind and the TV set shut off completely, sealing any hope of returning to Tetsuya's adventures with ugly pottery behind its inscrutable black screen.

Kasanoda sank back on his knees, crestfallen. Only a short while ago, he had thought it would be nice to have some privacy again—or at least not have to look at Tetsuya's mug twenty-four/seven—but it only took seeing that short clip on the television screen to realize just how much he missed his delinquent friend. His partner in crime.

His traveling companion.

"You want to see your old pal again, don't you?" Ringo asked him point blank.

Kasanoda nodded pathetically. "Yeah."

"A little hard to do with him being dead and all, isn't it? I mean, no thanks to you."

As if he weren't hating himself enough as it was, she had to twist the knife around some more. But Kasanoda couldn't complain that he didn't deserve it, either: if anyone were responsible for this mess, it was him, without question.

His face and throat felt like they were on fire, but nothing would come up except another barely audible, "Yeah."

Ringo narrowed her eyes. "Are you still planning to go to Ise?"

Kasanoda hadn't really thought about it, but he surprised himself that he already knew the answer.

"Well, yeah. I mean, if I can, then I gotta. Right? It's what Tetsuya would have wanted. Even if it was more his idea than mine to begin with, I made a promise I'd go that far with him. That we'd get there together." Realizing what he had just said, Kasanoda's shoulders slumped even further. "Obviously I fell through on that one. But I can still take him with me in spirit . . . I guess. . . ."

Christ, that sounded so cliché coming out of his mouth—so much less genuine, in any case, than what he felt inside.

To his surprise, Ringo shot to her feet.

"That's the spirit!"

Kasanoda recoiled. "What is?"

"I mean, I don't mean the _actual_ spirit. We can't actually _do_ that. But you know what I mean." A dreamy look glazed over her eyes as she clasped her hands together beneath her chin. "It's that determination to persevere, to continue on with your fallen friend's best wishes in mind—your eagerness to do penance for his untimely death and take his memory with you to Ise—to fulfill a vow made between comrades, even beyond the grave!"

She thought that over.

"Or, okay, if not eagerness, at least willingness. Whatever's slightly stronger than willingness. Anyway." Ringo heaved a huge sigh. "The point is, it's so heroic! You have no idea how beautiful your dedication is to me, seriously."

"Okay. But it still doesn't feel like it'll mean anything with Tetsuya gone—"

"Don't say that!" Ringo placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down over him. "Don't you even think it! Your friend's spirit will be there beside you every step of the way, even if you can't see him! He _lives_ in _you_. Always."

She poked him in the breastbone. Kasanoda rocked backwards a bit.

"Uh, okay. . . ."

"Wherever you go, just . . . don't stop believing. Alright? Hold on to that feeling, and before you know it, luck will surely come—"

She stopped herself abruptly, then amended with an uneasy glance around the room, "But I think I've probably said enough already."

"Okay, then. I leave for Ise immediately. For Tetsuya's sake—or at least for his memory." Kasanoda knitted his brow. "But just how am I supposed to do that, anyway? Somehow I ended up back in Tokyo, and Ise's a long ways away."

Ringo stalked over to the door, a guilty half-smile on her face.

"There's something else I should tell you," she said. "This isn't actually your living room, and you're not in Tokyo."

And she drew back the sliding door with a sharp rattle to reveal the outskirts of a town straight out of the year 1807. Kasanoda blinked. There was no explanation for it, but for once on this trip he was actually overjoyed to find himself back in the past.

Ringo crossed her arms over her stomach and gazed out at the landscape as Kasanoda got stiffly to his feet.

"Yep. Just keep straight on that road down there and you'll hit Ise in no time at all. You don't have to worry about not having anyone to talk to along the way, either. I've taken care of that."

Kasanoda, who had already stepped down off the porch, turned to look back at her, hefting his sack on his back. "You mean I won't be going alone? How d'you figure?"

"See that kid over there?"

She nodded toward something behind him, and Kasanoda turned to see a boy around eleven years old sitting on a log nearby and kicking his feet idly in the dust. His dark hair was cut in a sort of bowl cut, and he was dressed like he had come from some kind of boy scout rally, but it was the chronically bored look in his eyes that didn't exactly make Kasanoda eager to go over and introduce himself.

"You mean that kid?"

"Do you see any other kids around here?" Ringo said at his back. "He's going to keep you company 'til you get to Ise. Oh, and one more thing. I'm not actually a shinigami and this is all a figment of your imagination."

"What?" Kasanoda spun. "Wait. So, you're saying I should take this kid with me in place of Tetsuya?"

"Great," someone said in a haughty voice behind him. "I get myself a little lost and who do they send to come get me but the schizo who talks to his imaginary friend. Guess all that stuff about not wandering too far from the group turned out to actually be good advice."

Kasanoda was about to point out to the kid that the woman he was speaking to was real, but she had disappeared. To mess with his head even further, the house he had just come out of was little more than a dilapidated shack, and what he had thought was his living room was, in reality, frayed tatami surrounding a half-collapsed hearth. The property had obviously been sitting there abandoned for some time.

For a moment, all Kasanoda could do was gape. "She was right . . . there?"

"So, I guess you're my new traveling companion, huh? You can call me Kurou." The kid surveyed the landscape as he spoke, with an equally haughty gaze to match the voice. "What's your name?"

"Kasanoda. And I'm not crazy."

"'Kay. So, where are we going anyway, Mr Kasanoda-who's-not-crazy?"

Kasanoda was so thrown off by someone actually getting his name right, it took him a moment to respond. After all this time, he wasn't sure he liked it, either. "Well, see, me and Tetsuya were sort of on our way to Ise—"

"Ise? As in the musty old shrine? Bo-ring! How 'bout this: we forget Ise, find ourselves some hot sake and hot women, and get plastered instead!"

Kasanoda stared at him. "Kid, just how old are you?"

"Old enough!" Kurou puffed out his chest. "Mozart was already composing symphonies when he was, like, six, you know. Genius knows no age limit."

"Genius?"

"That's right. What, did I stutter?"

Kasanoda planted his face in his palm. There might not have been that much road left before they reached Ise, but he could already tell it was going to be a very long walk.


	22. In the hall of the mountain hag

An ambulance passed by somewhere on the street below, its blaring siren soon fading into the night, only to be replaced by the sound of Kasanoda's cell phone flipping shut. There was nothing he could say that that passing siren didn't already make clear.

"You have to go, don't you?" Tetsuya sighed. "Even though you just got here."

"Can't help it," the boss grumbled. "This is who I am."

He cinched his tie back into place, but he hesitated before rising from the edge of the bed, even though both of them knew he had to go. "Something's come up with one of the families. I've got to take this one. They . . . need me."

Yeah? Well, so do I, Tetsuya felt like saying, but he didn't say it. He never did.

Instead, he raised himself up and pulled his shirt back up over his shoulder. It was with some reluctance, however—reluctance to put an end to this moment, long before it should have been due.

"I know," he said, and there was a smile on his lips, as much as he didn't feel like smiling. "You wouldn't be the Boss I fell for all those years ago if you weren't always so quick to do what you knew was right. I just wish . . ."

He wished he could reach out to Kasanoda—wished he could grab hold of his wrist and keep him right there, in the cramped apartment he was paying for just for occasions like this, and—who knows—maybe just pull him all the way back to their carefree high school days, before the boss's father died and left him the family business. Before the boss took a wife and started wearing suits, and started acting all responsible.

"It's just, this is all we have anymore, and it seems like most of the time we don't even have that."

"I'm sorry," Kasanoda muttered, turning away so Tetsuya wouldn't see on his face how much this keeping a secret life was eating him up inside.

Ringo sniffled into a handkerchief with one hand, before promptly stuffing another fistful of popcorn into her mouth with the other. "It's so . . . so . . . _heartbreaking!_" she managed to say somewhat coherently between the munching and the tears. "So _Brokeback Yakuza_! Oh, Bossa Nova, I wish I knew how to quit you! Beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous!"

Tetsuya, in the meantime, was trying his best to pretend he was anywhere other than a movie theater the main feature of which was some gay fantasy of his future life with the young master. As if it weren't bad enough that he had been portrayed as the stereotypical mistress the mob boss kept on the side, he was fairly certain he wasn't getting a dime from this production. At least there was no one else around to witness the humiliation but himself and this teenage girl he didn't know.

"My god," he exclaimed, "where did you pick this shit up? Seriously. How the hell are you doing that? I mean, I'm pretty sure I'd remember acting a scene like this out, let alone signing off on it. And why do I always have to be the catcher!"

"You don't think it's romantic, the tragedy of what your lives of organized crime have made of your childhood friendship?"

"No, I don't." Tetsuya heaved a big sigh. "First of all: ew. And second, we've only known each other a couple of years. Not only that, but this whole jealous mistress thing is so cliché it isn't even funny. Frankly I'm a little offended you would even see me that way. It looks like you just ripped the whole thing out of any random boy's love comic book. I mean, even if Waka did like me like that—"

"Oh? So you admit it. You do like him."

Suddenly Ringo was right in his face. In fact, she was so in his face as to be practically on his lap. Tetsuya edged as far to the other side of his seat as the armrest would allow him.

"So what if I do? That's not the issue, all right? It doesn't matter, because there's no way in hell Waka and me'd ever get that far. Look, this is all beside the point, but even if I did run away from home, as the son of a boss myself I could never lower myself to being someone's kept lover—"

The embrace was sudden. It hurt all the worse because, as Kasanoda pulled him into his arms, Tetsuya could feel all his relief in it. They'd just survived one apocalyptic bloodbath of a night that they both wished to god never had to be, but it wasn't like they'd had any say in it, and nothing they did now would bring any of their men back. This was destined to happen. They were just following a script, playing the roles they had been born into, and nothing they did could change that. If only any of this mattered, Tetsuya thought as he allowed his eyes to close for the first time in what seemed like days, if only it were enough just for Kasanoda to be there with him—

The gun cocked in his hand as he pressed the end of the muzzle into his friend's ribcage. The metal was still warm, but Tetsuya's grip was ice cold. To his surprise, Kasanoda didn't seem all that surprised.

"Tetsuya. . . . Why?"

Then Kasanoda was pushing him away, and no sooner had Tetsuya raised the pistol in his hand than he was staring down the barrel of Kasanoda's own piece.

"Go ahead and do it!" Tetsuya yelled, his words ringing like gunshot off the chipped concrete walls of the abandoned warehouse. "Shoot me! Put an end to my misery! After everything I've done to you, you know I deserve it. _You_ deserve it—justice, for your men. Don't you?" He saw Kasanoda's hesitation, and barked: "What's stopping you? Do it, already!"

"I can't!" But Kasanoda's hand was steady and his eyes burned with the anger of betrayal. Even then, Tetsuya mused, he couldn't completely hide the warm, gentle heart that lurked just underneath that deadly exterior.

It made him smile.

"Of course you can. Have you forgotten, Ritsu: you're _yakuza_—"

"But you're my _friend._ Tetsuya—"

Tetsuya threw back his head and laughed, then tightened his hold on his own pistol, knowing one of them was going to have to pull that trigger. "Friend. . . . You thought the only sons of Japan's two most powerful, most ruthless crime bosses could be _friends_ of all things? Then you're a bigger idiot than I thought. That's why I find it so fucking funny when I think of how much I still love you—when we were destined from the beginning to be enemies."

If the long history of gangster movies had taught the real Tetsuya anything, it was that there was a lot more of this sappy, hackneyed dialog to come before any bullets were fired, but he had already seen enough. This version of events, outlandish as the situation seemed, nonetheless hit a little too close to home for his comfort.

He jumped to his feet and stood between Ringo—who was mouthing the lines along with the Kasanoda and Tetsuya on the screen—and the picture. "Turn it off."

"Why?" Ringo pouted and tried to see around him. "It's just getting to the good part—"

"Turn it off, I said! I can't stand any more of this bullshit! That isn't us!" he said, jabbing his finger at the movie. "We wouldn't be fighting like that, and I certainly would never make a threat on Waka's life!"

But just seeing his fake self on the screen with that sarcastic sneer on his face made Tetsuya want to hit something. The fact that that was still his natural reaction was just further proof of how little he had changed in the young master's service.

Ringo blinked and sobered.

"Well, you're right about that, I guess. Which would explain why _he_ was the one who killed _you_."

"What?"

"You don't remember, do you? Oh, well. I suppose it's only natural to block out something as traumatic as your own death, but it'll come back to you in no time."

The dead seriousness in Ringo's eyes as she stared up at him froze Tetsuya to the bone. Suddenly, as he stared back into them, he knew exactly where he was. As though she had said the magic words, it all came back to him in a rush. The argument on the hillside, losing his footing on the slick rocks and seeing that black pit come up to swallow him whole. . . .

She was right. He still couldn't quite comprehend the reality of it, but he knew she was right.

He covered his face with his hands and took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes again, he found that he was no longer in a movie theater. In fact, he was standing waist-deep in a calm but very cold river. All around him was a dark and gloomy landscape, amid which Ringo was the only bright spot, an angel in a lacy black frock sitting high and dry on a huge rock in the middle of the current. Enjoying a hot cup of tea.

Tetsuya shivered. "Where am I?"

"Currently? In the middle of a tributary of the Bardo, the main river that separates the land of the living from the land of the dead."

Ringo meditated on that for a moment, before breaking into a wide grin. "So . . . I guess that makes me the old witch who takes your clothes, huh?" She held a hand out to him and snapped her fingers. "Start stripping, sailor. Chop-chop, I haven't got all day—"

Tetsuya tugged his sopping-wet clothes tighter around himself. "I'm in hell!"

"Well," Ringo blinked, "technically that still remains to be seen. If you would just come with me to the shore, I can take your soul to central booking and—"

"Screw that!" Seeing his chance, Tetsuya turned around. "If I have any choice in the matter, then I think I prefer being alive."

And he began to trudge back toward the other shore.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Ringo called calmly after him.

It didn't take Tetsuya long to see why. With every step he took toward the opposite shore, it moved farther and farther away, until what had looked like five good strokes at most turned into the length of an Olympic pool. He didn't think he would be able to stand the blow to his morale if it got any farther away, so he stopped.

"Then I'm really dead."

"M-m, pretty much. Your boyfriend, the one you said you could never hurt—"

"He was never my boyfriend."

"Yeah, but you kinda wish he was, right? Am I right?" She winked. But when she finally got a bashful yes out of him, she sobered. "Well, he pushed you down a well, if I'm not mistaken."

"He didn't mean to. It was an accident. I mean, I was there. I know."

"Okay, Finny, if you say so. You can call it whatever you like if it makes you feel better, but the fact of the matter is he killed you."

Strangely enough, that truth didn't hit Tetsuya particularly hard at all. He thought the revelation of his own death—at the hands of the young master, no less—should have come as a hard blow, one he could feel in his gut, but all he felt was a general disappointment.

"I guess this is what I get," he said to himself. "You live by the sword, you die by the sword, huh? Here I thought I could put that kind of life behind me forever when I left home. That I could change, and maybe just being around a kind soul like Waka might make me be a better person. I thought—man, what I wouldn't give to be like him. But in the end, I can't escape my family name after all, can I? In the end, I wind up just like my old man."

When he hung his head, Ringo gaped.

"What? What's this, what are you saying? Are you giving up that easily?"

"What else can I do?" Tetsuya asked her. "Anything I try to do now is kind of useless, isn't it? Being dead and all."

"Useless—" She leaped to her feet on her rock. "I thought you loved your boss!"

"I do. More than anything," Tetsuya admitted. For some reason it came surprisingly easy, now that he was dead. "But what good is that going to do? Even if I could go back, if I somehow had a second chance to try and undo what was done, there's no way I could ever make him return my feelings."

"But how do you know if you never try?"

"There's just no way." Tetsuya drew a shaky breath. "See, there was a time I thought I might stand a chance. Waka had it totally bad for this kid at school, another guy, even though this guy pretty much told him he only really valued their friendship—"

"Ah! The old, let's-just-be-friends technique. Harsh! But do continue."

"Anyway, I guess I thought that as long as Waka was hung up on someone like that kid, he might be able to love someone like me. Until he told me. The guy Waka had that huge crush on wasn't a guy at all. Never had been. Turned out she was just a girl pretending to be a boy so she wouldn't be kicked out of her club."

Ringo's particularly loud intake of breath beside him made him start. "You don't say! What a total buzz-kill! Still, it had to be pretty hard on you."

Tetsuya wasn't sure why she was suddenly staring at him through opera glasses, but decided it was best not to mention it.

"Yeah. It sucked pretty hard. But, see, that's just the thing."

A shiver ran through him and made him hug himself even tighter. But if Tetsuya were honest, it wasn't really from the water.

"I thought it was enough just to be near him. Even if I never said anything about how I felt, even if I just kept it all to myself, all silent and bottled-up like, I thought maybe things would work out the way I wanted them to in the end. That maybe he would come around and return my feelings all on his own, and—well, if not, at least we could continue being friends, and I could continue to serve him. But the fact is, things didn't work out that way, and now it doesn't matter whether I confess to him or not. Whatever bond we had between us just wasn't enough to keep us together, if powers beyond our control decided we weren't supposed to be together in the first place."

The words of his self from the gangster movie rang in his mind then as if he had said them himself—and perhaps he had, in his mind every day as he bid the young master good-night, or welcomed him home from school and only got a noncommittal "ah" in response.

Did he really think a Kasanoda and a Sendou could be friends? Hell, whatever had made him think they could ever be lovers?

The sound of an oar dipping into the water startled Tetsuya from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Ringo shaking her head at him from aboard a small wooden boat. "Well," she said, "no sense wasting time here crying about it. Get in."

"No way! You're just gonna take me to hell, and then it's game over!"

"So?" Ringo pouted and laid the oar over her knees. "Sounded like you were all ready to call it quits a minute ago. You mean to tell me now you want to live?"

Tetsuya looked down at the murky waters. He didn't want to die, but . . . "I don't know if I deserve to live."

Ringo sighed. "Does anyone? Look, I'm rooting for you more than anyone else, here, including yourself. I promise I won't take you to the land of the dead. Okay? Besides, what kind of fangirl would I be if I didn't do everything in my power so you could get back up there to your boss and confess your undying love? Eh, loverboy?"

Tetsuya blinked up at her. At first glance, it seemed too good to be true.

Then a smile slowly spread onto his lips, and he grabbed onto the side of the boat to hoist himself up.

"Careful, careful!" Ringo shouted. "This outfit cost a small fortune—for the princess I stole it off of! Ho-ho! Who says you can't take it with you?"

The two drifted gently downstream, Ringo guiding the little boat through the fog and Tetsuya watching the desolate landscape that passed by on either shore. It was like something out of a Tim Burton movie, a murky country of grayscale only brightened every once in a while by a geyser of hellfire, flaring up like a beacon in the eternal night.

Eventually their prow bumped up against the dock of a grand structure situated on pilings in the middle of the river, which loomed over them from up out of the gloom, its various wings and corridors extending back far out of sight and into the mist. Lanterns bobbed on their hooks like condemned souls chained to the outer walls, but other than their eerie presence the place appeared to be completely abandoned. "Maybe everyone's asleep?" Tetsuya ventured as Ringo tied the boat to the mooring.

She seemed not to have heard his comment as she stepped nimbly out of the boat and gestured impatiently for Tetsuya to follow her. Their footsteps echoed strangely on the wooden planks before that sound, too, was sucked up by the mist.

Finally, Tetsuya could stand the silence no longer. "Where are we anyway?"

"The palace of the great King Enma, judge of the quick and the dead," Ringo said.

"You said you weren't going to take me to hell!"

"_Shhh!_" She glanced quickly around. "And I don't intend to, shortcakes, but that all depends on our next moves. I'm not even supposed to be doing this, but I can't exactly say no to a poor lovesick pup like you."

Tetsuya wasn't sure if he should feel grateful or offended by that comment. In any case, it wasn't like he had asked her to help him.

"Just promise me you won't go wandering off on your own," she told him as she led him through the halls. "And if anyone approaches you, you tell them Beatrice brought you here and she's giving you the grand tour, okay? That's all anyone needs to know about our little arrangement. Also, I think you should know the characters around here can't resist a good wager. Be sure you don't enter into any bargains with them, no matter how innocent they may appear at first glance."

"Okay, okay—"

"And for godsakes—" Ringo shook him hard. "Whatever you do, don't—eat—anything!"

"Alright, I won't. Jeez."

Tetsuya blinked as she shoved him into a room that—in stark contrast to the quiet corridors outside—was veritably hopping. One would hesitate to call the place "alive," seeing as how the crowd who occupied it consisted mostly of the spectral forms of ghosts, mingling and laughing and dancing to a band whose members included skeletons and one Visible Man. The party-goers hardly took any notice of them as Ringo weaved through them, guiding Tetsuya over near the punch bowl.

Then she turned to go.

Tetsuya started. "Wait a second, you're just gonna leave me here?"

"Only for a minute or two," Ringo said. "I'll be back before you know it. Promise. Just stay right there."

And just like that, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Tetsuya alone with punch that was off limits. At least, he had thought he was alone.

"Hullo? Who do we have here?"

He turned around—very slowly—to find two figures standing beside him with cups of punch in hand. If Kasanoda had been there, he might have thought they bore some resemblance to his high school's student council president and secretary, Toshiyori and Kanan; but as it was, Tetsuya only had their "Hello, My Name Is" stickers to go by.

"Are you just joining the party?" the first one asked him, a particularly sallow-looking oni with a tiger-skin tie and a face more stretched and hollow than half the spirits in attendance.

"Oh. Well, uh, I'm not really here actually," Tetsuya began. "You see—"

"Course he is, he's still warm. We'd better get you a name tag since you're going to be here a while," said the other, a young woman with braided pigtails, gravity-defying silk robes, and a demeanor sweeter than pecan pie.

And yet, there was something about her tone that didn't sit well with Tetsuya.

"Actually, it's kind of a long story, but I'm really just waiting here for someone."

"Mm-hm." The other two didn't sound like they believed him.

"Yeah. See, I'm only here because Beatrice brought me, and, well—"

"Oh, Beatrice! That sly old bird, isn't she great?" said the young woman with the pigtails. "She's an old friend of ours, you know. Probably trying to keep you all to herself, too, what with her not introducing you to us before running off and all. By the way, this here is Tony the oni." She gestured to her colleague.

"And you might recognize her grace, the Holy Kannon," said Tony.

"Compassion incarnate, at your service."

The young woman extended a hand, which Tetsuya shook, only realizing after he took it that it was the third of four.

"Whoa-kay! Nice to meet you folks." He cleared his throat, trying to pretend he hadn't noticed the young woman's extra limbs. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"Whoa, now. Where do you think you're going?" said Tony the oni.

"You can't leave now. We were just talking about how we could really use an extra body for our game," Kannon said, "and you do look like a sporting fellow—"

"Oh, yes, you really ought to join us. It's no fun at all with only two people."

Kannon nodded gravely.

"Uh, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. . . ." Even though the duo looked as out of place at the party as two nerdy student government officers at the homecoming dance, wasn't this was just the sort of situation Ringo had warned him _not_ to get himself into? She hadn't said so specifically, but mingling with the locals seemed to him like one step closer to becoming a permanent resident.

"Beatrice told me to wait right here for her, so I think I'll just do that and take in some of this killer music while I'm at it." It actually sounded like someone had strung the lead shamisen's instrument with a couple of live cats rather than catgut, but he managed not to wince too much. "Great band, huh? Besides, I'm really no good at games—unless, of course, it's kick-the-can. Or baccarat."

Kannon and Tony the oni lit up at that. "What a coincidence! That's our game!"

"Wow, this is like fate or something. Come on, you just _have_ to play a hand with us now."

"Well . . . alright." Tetsuya rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess one hand won't hurt. But just so you know, I don't have anything to bet with. I mean, other than my immortal soul, that is."

He laughed awkwardly, hoping the joke might make the air between them a little less oppressive. But somehow it had the opposite effect when the other two laughed along with him.

Kannon and Tony exchanged curious glances. "That's good enough for us. Right, Tony?"

"Just peachy."

Whatever was left of Tetsuya's smile melted as the two linked arms with him and dragged him away to their table.


	23. Drinking to remember

"I failed him, Sempai. All he ever wanted was to spend some time with me, as a friend—I mean, that's not asking too much, is it?—and what do I do? I tell him to get the hell out of my life and push him down a friggin' well!"

As Kasanoda pulled at his hair and stared down at his reflection in the shiny, shiny bar counter, the bartender wiped his glassware on a blindingly white towel and said, "Is that right?"

"I mean, I know it was an accident and all, and that I said a lot of things I didn't mean, but at the time I really _did_ mean it. Okay, yeah, Tetsuya had been a bit of a dick, and I just wished he'd get over himself and apologize—you know, just give me some sign that he was sorry for putting me through all that. But I don't give a shit about any of that now. What does it really matter, anyway, in the long run? I don't care if he ever apologized or not, or if his intentions were good—damn it, I just wanna hear his voice again. I feel like . . . If I could just have that, everything would be right again. I'm not making any sense, am I, Sempai?"

"I see your point," the bartender said, holding a tumbler up to the light.

Kasanoda's shoulders slumped. Those words were all well and good, but it didn't really matter what he said. Tetsuya was still gone.

"I just wish I had him back, is all," he said in a small voice. "If I could, you know, I'd take it all back, just to have him here with me. And I wouldn't yell at him ever again, I swear. He wasn't just some lackey to me. He was my friend—maybe the only real friend I've got—and people like that are just too valuable to treat so cap . . . capric . . . (Gah, what's the word?) To be treated like I treated him. 'Cause there's nothing so bad that true friendship can't overcome it. Sad it's taken me this long to figure that out."

In response, a martini glass was slid in front of Kasanoda, its rim sporting an exotic display of curly citrus rinds and spiky leaves and topped off with what looked to be a live butterfly, while its cup was filled with some drink the contents of which he couldn't even guess at, as they had settled into rainbow-colored strata.

"What's this?" Kasanoda looked up at the bartender.

Who pushed his rimless glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose. "Just a specialty of ours. A little something we like to call 'Memboroshi'. You won't find it on any menu. We like to save it for those rare guests whose situations expressly require it."

Kasanoda glanced at the suspicious-looking drink again, then up at the neon sign that spelled out "Hotel California" over the tops of the whiskey bottles in glowing blue calligraphy. Then at the bartender across from him, smiling disingenuously charmingly at him with his perfect black hair and perfectly starched shirt and apron. Then back at the drink again.

"Well, go on," said the bartender, noting his misgivings. "You'll find it to be quite pleasant, I guarantee it."

"I don't know. It looks kinda fruity. Besides, I don't think I can—"

"It's on the house." The bartender flashed him a cool grin. "Really. If what you said is true, you won't regret it."

Something told Kasanoda that when someone said those words, it usually meant that you would very much regret it. But on the other hand, what did he have to lose? He'd already lost Tetsuya, and was stuck two hundred years in the past, for all he knew, because of it. Inside the Hotel California lounge the air was warm and filled with the damp scent of tropical foliage and the gentle music of the piano swirling around its few guests, while outside the waves beat lazily against the mist-shrouded shore of the Ise Peninsula. He'd come this close to his destination, yet he couldn't bring himself to go those few extra miles to the Shrine. Not by himself. And all the while, Memboroshi beckoned like a liquidy opal. . . .

What the hell. Kasanoda reached out, grabbed the martini glass, and downed its contents in a couple of quick gulps before he had any time to change his own mind. The concoction went down part sweet and part sour, with the slightest and not entirely unpleasant burn. With his limited experience in the area, he wasn't sure what he was tasting, only hoped that he hadn't just ingested paint thinner or worse. He coughed despite himself.

But the seconds passed and he remained among the living. A funny warmth spread through his limbs, but rather than the buzz he expected, his mind seemed if anything to be clearer, his thoughts less muddled.

"Hey," he said after the flavors had had a moment to sink into his tongue, "that wasn't half bad."

"For a pussy drink, you mean."

Kasanoda started. The tone had been all wrong—much more sarcastic and aloof than he was used to—but the voice was nevertheless the same. But it was impossible, it just couldn't be.

Could it?

He spun in his seat to look at the person suddenly sitting next to him at the bar, and had to rub his eyes to make sure they weren't playing tricks on him. "Tetsu—"

"Ya," that person said in greeting.

At face value, he looked just like Tetsuya. He had the ponytail, the slightly cross-eyed expression when he stared at something for any length of time, even the Band-Aid on his cheek—he was wearing the same fleece-collared jacket and had just the same bend in his shoulders when he hunched over the bar counter as Tetsuya did.

Yet, the more Kasanoda stared at him in disbelief, the less he could bring himself to believe that it was really Tetsuya sitting next to him. There was just something . . . off. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"You . . . You're alive," he breathed.

The Tetsuya next to him snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Duh."

"But are you really . . . You know. Are you really here?"

"If I weren't, could I do this?"

So saying, he picked a coin off the counter and flipped it off his thumb. It bounced off the bar and disappeared behind it somewhere.

"Aw, fuck," Tetsuya said disappointedly. "That was supposed to land in the glass, but I'm sure you get the picture anyway. . . . What're you staring at?"

"Uh, er . . ." Kasanoda shook himself, unaware he had been staring. "Nothing. It's just . . . Well, you seem different somehow."

"Different? What do you mean? This is how I always am."

"Not when you're with me, it isn't. The Tetsuya I remember has always been kind and soft-spoken—I mean, he'll slip and swear every now and then, he's not Jesus or anything, but he never has a mean word to say about someone unless they really deserve it."

Kasanoda blinked as his own words caught up with him. They had more or less come out automatically, and whether or not there was any truth to them—Kasanoda was not unaware of the reputation Tetsuya had had before he left home—nothing else could feel as right. Maybe that was what was meant by the phrase "speaking from the heart".

The fake Tetsuya sitting next to him blinked as well, and as Kasanoda watched, his form began to waver and become more transparent before his eyes, like a mirage on the pavement on a hot day. Kasanoda couldn't tell if it was because of him or not, but if it was, he hadn't the first clue how to stop it.

It all happened so quickly, the fake Tetsuya only had time for a disbelieving, "Hey, not cool," before he vanished completely.

"I vaporized him," Kasanoda said, staring at the empty stool.

"He was just a phantom anyway. Besides, that's bound to happen on your first try."

The bartender had returned, and was already fixing Kasanoda a refill, pouring crystal clear liquors into a glass that somehow, when the whole concoction was shaken, produced the same opalescent effect. He slid the new glass across the bar to lean his elbows on it, and tell Kasanoda in a more frank manner: "You just need to focus your mind a little better. This time, concentrate on what you remember of your friend. Keep him there _in_ your thoughts, and you keep him here _with_ your thoughts."

That still sounded cryptic, not to mention impossibly difficult, but Kasanoda downed the drink anyway and got right to work visualizing the Tetsuya he knew so well. He wasn't sure if it worked any better if he actually strained his brain, but it couldn't hurt, either; and pretty soon all his recollections of their journey so far, and all Tetsuya's seeing him off to school in the morning paid off as a new figure began to materialize on the bar stool next to him.

"Whoa, what a headrush," the new Tetsuya said. He took in his surroundings and whistled. "Not a bad place you found us, Waka. Hey, d'you suppose I could get a kamikaze or something? I am parched."

He had hardly finished when Kasanoda grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him into a hug. Tetsuya stiffened in surprise. Even Kasanoda wasn't sure where this had come from himself, only that he suddenly couldn't trust himself to speak, he just had to make sure this Tetsuya was real.

And he sure felt real—the soft fleece of his collar against Kasanoda's cheek was very corporeal, as was the smell of old cigarettes that never had come out of his old jacket. Even the way Tetsuya cleared his throat and rapped Kasanoda's shoulder blade with his fist was all just the way he remembered.

He jerked back, coughing a little to clear his own throat and blinking back a tear, and Tetsuya chuckled. "Wow, Waka. Never knew you were such a sap. Where did that come from?"

Kasanoda looked away. "Don't get your hopes up or anything. I'm just glad to have you back, is all."

"Why, did I go away for a while or something?"

"Um . . ."

Kasanoda glanced to the bartender, but he merely placed a tumbler in front of Tetsuya and moved away to tend to other business, seeing his work there, for the moment, done.

"You don't remember?"

Tetsuya rolled his eyes up at the ceiling, thinking hard. "I remember heading up the pass outside Kameyama, playing that priest game with you and losing pretty sorely at it. Huh. It's kind of strange now that you mention it, but I really don't remember how I got here. I didn't miss anything good, did I?"

He probably had every right to know, Kasanoda thought, but could anyone blame him for being selfish? He'd just gotten his friend back. He wasn't about to jeopardize the moment by reminding Tetsuya of what had happened at the Suzutani well, and either have his friend hate him or disappear again.

He settled for, "I'll fill you in later."

"Okay. When we get to Ise."

"Deal. But for now, let's just . . . let's stay here just a little longer."

Sipping his kamikaze, Tetsuya just smiled and nodded.

The gentle piano music that had been drifting about the air inside the lounge like a subtle fragrance suddenly stopped, and a few seconds later, Kurou came walking up to the bar.

"This place is hella lame," he said to Kasanoda. "Can I go now that you have your friend back?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Kasanoda shooed him away. In fact, he was glad to be rid of the little brat—who, despite his never-ending criticism of everything under the sun as "hella" low-brow, had, in fact, turned out to be a bit of a musical prodigy. Not that either of them had turned out to be of any help to the other.

Tetsuya raised an eyebrow as if to ask him what that was all about, but Kasanoda just rolled his eyes after the kid and they dropped the subject.

As Tetsuya sipped his drink and Kasanoda picked disinterestedly at peanuts, the bartender put on a vinyl record of old Occupation-era hits. The jaunty strains of "Tokyo Boogie-Woogie" started up with a few warm pops and hisses.

"Wow, Ise," Tetsuya said. "Now that we're so close, it's actually kind of hard to believe. If that makes any sense."

"Sure it does," was all Kasanoda trusted himself to say.

"I guess it just felt for so long like we'd never get there." Suddenly remembering something, Tetsuya laughed and grabbed his arm. "Hey, Waka, remember that town we stopped in where we ate all that eel? How we were so sick of it we swore we'd never eat it again?"

"That's weird. Now that you mention it, I could actually go for some."

"I know, right? Boy, that seems like ages ago, doesn't it? We had some good times, the two of us. Looking back at least."

"Ah, how fleeting and radiant is youth," said the old man seated at the end of the bar. "Like the blossoms of trees in the spring breeze. And yet for all the wisdom of my many years, what I still wouldn't give to be able to revisit my younger days, to take a stroll down that memory lane for just a little while. Bartender, be a good man and fix me up one of what he's having, will you?"

The bartender got busy whipping together another of the fancy cocktail.

"So we meet again, old man," Kasanoda said, turning to him. If he didn't already have a few drinks in him, he might have found it strange how the gentleman who so strongly resembled Vice-principal Kazama somehow always managed to slip ahead of them on the road, even when he was going in the opposite direction, but dwelling on it too much kind of hurt his head at the moment. "Did you ever find what you were looking for?"

"Not yet," said the old man. "And perhaps, though it pains me to say, never again. Now I have come full circle, and, alas, that perfect soup of my memory continues to reside only there and nowhere else, for if it could be found in the outside world, I am sure I would have come across it already in my extensive and thorough traveling. Perhaps I should have accepted this fact as inevitable long ago, and not presumed to tempt fate that such a brilliant stroke of culinary genius could happen to the same individual twice in one lifetime, but the truth is still difficult to accept as long as the hope of days gone by remains strong in this tough old body."

"Have you ever tried mixing in a package of ketchup? I heard it's actually pretty good," Tetsuya tried helpfully, but the old man, it seemed, had tried everything he could possibly think of, and he told the young men about it in fine detail.

Meanwhile, the bartender poured the old man's drink, as well as a second glass of Memboroshi, which he slipped out from behind the bar and onto the lounge floor with in hand.

Curious, and with Tetsuya stuck making conversation with the old man at the bar, Kasanoda followed the bartender over to one of the lounge's booths.

Its one occupant was a woman in her mid-twenties, who appeared to be out cold with her head pillowed on her arms. Her long black hair, once swept up on the crown of her head, had slipped out of its pins over however long she had been sitting there to fall over the sleeves of her pastel sweater like water.

As Kasanoda watched, the bartender bent close and whispered something low beside her ear. After a moment, the woman stirred, slowly lifting her head as if it weighed a ton with an exhausted groan. She was beautiful in a sophisticated way, Kasanoda noticed, with her fair features and dark hair—all of which reminded him of a spectacles-less, slightly older female version of the bartender.

Slowly, her eyes focused on him. "Oh, it's you, Kyo—" She covered her yawn with a pale hand. "I was having the most pleasant dream. . . ."

"I'm glad to hear it." The smile on the bartender's face as he leaned down to hand her the glass was not as hollow as those he had given Kasanoda earlier, and there was a hint of sadness to it—no doubt deeper than his professional exterior allowed him to let on. "But it's time for your drink—"

"No . . ." She shook her head, still too tired to protest much more than that. "I'm too sleepy, I couldn't possibly have another drop—"

"If you don't take it, I'll go away again, and I don't know when I'll be coming back. You know this. I shouldn't need to remind you."

He said so patiently, but both the woman and Kasanoda, the latter as a silent observer, could detect the urgency in his words. It was ever so faint, but the edges of his hand seemed to waver in Kasanoda's vision to the point he could see the grain of the table top behind it.

The woman knew she didn't have a choice, but she was still reluctant to take the glass. Slowly, she curled her fingers around the stem, and brought the rim to her lips. She grimaced, but didn't pull the glass away.

"You know how much it means to me, my dear sister," the bartender encouraged her, as if he were singing an infant to sleep. And in fact, no sooner had she drained the glass halfway than her eyelids grew heavy again. "Forgive me that I have to do this to you, but I have to be a little selfish, too, where my existence is concerned."

The woman did not seem to have heard the last part, as she was already putting her head back down on her arms and was breathing slow and deep. The bartender picked up the empty glass, his edges solid once again.

"She's your sister?" Kasanoda said quietly.

The bartender smiled, unable for the moment to tear his eyes away. "My older sister. Apparently Father blamed himself after the accident—we had had another one of our arguments, typical father-and-son row that ended with me storming out and him threatening to disown me—so she wandered in here, thinking she could somehow fix things for the both of us. Ever the self-sacrificing, filial daughter."

The bartender sighed, but there seemed to be more than he was saying when he muttered under his breath: "And a foolish woman."

"So, wait. You're dead too? And a phantom?"

The bartender finally turned to him. "Well, yes. Wasn't that obvious?"

"To tell the truth, no. I guess I hadn't given it any thought."

"Like your friend there—" He nodded toward Tetsuya, talking animatedly now with the old man. "—I was brought back into this world because of my sister's memories of me, and her determination not to let me go until things could be put right. Unfortunately, all that happened was she got herself stuck here, drinking Memboroshis and sleeping at this booth day in and out. If she doesn't take a drink every so often, I will cease to exist."

"Wait a minute." All in a rush, the pieces fell into place. "Are you saying I'm gonna wind up like her?"

"Not necessarily, but that is certainly one possibility. What I'm saying is, if you want to hold on to your friend like he is now, you're going to have to keep taking that drink. Unbearable sleepiness just happens to be one of the unfortunate side effects. It's hard to wander very far at all when one is under the Memboroshi's power."

Kasanoda clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. So that was the decision he had to make now? It wasn't just as simple as choosing Drink Me over Eat Me, or the red pill over the blue pill, either. He could either let Tetsuya's spirit go once and for all and continue on his journey alone, or stay here forever as Rip van Winkle and keep them both suspended in the same useless sort of half-life the bartender and his sister were trapped in. He wanted to do right by his friend, do penance for pushing him down that well, however accidental it may or may not have been—but was it worth it if he ended up wasting the rest of his life there as little more than a vegetable? Not even that—more like a fungus.

"I don't know what to do, Sempai."

"It's not an easy decision to make, but you'll have made it before long—before you even realize it." The bartender blinked at him behind his glasses. "Why, if I may ask, do you keep calling me 'Sempai'?"

"Er, no particular reason," Kasanoda began to say, but that was when the commotion started.

"There he is!" came a familiar voice from the Hotel California entrance.

"Botchan, you're all right! Quick, come with us. Kasanoda can't be too far away. . . ."

It was Akutaro and Akujiro. And when they burst into the bar, the first thing they saw was Tetsuya sitting at it with the old man. They rushed to his side—much to his utter confusion—missing Kasanoda completely.

Akutaro grabbed Tetsuya's arm, but he jerked it right back. "Hey, what gives?"

"We've been following you all this way, Botchan," Akujiro said. "You don't know what we had to go through to get here—"

"We've come to rescue you!"

"Rescue me? What the hell from? And who are you guys anyway?"

The two brothers stared at him.

"Y-you're kidding, right?" said Akutaro.

"Akutaro? Akujiro?" said Akujiro, pointing at themselves. "We work for your dad, boss of the Sendou-gumi? You seriously don't remember us?"

Tetsuya just stared at them wide-eyed. It was Kasanoda's cue to step it.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

The two brothers jumped, Akujiro grabbing the bar with one hand and pointing with the other. "There he is, the murderer!"

"_Murderer?_" Kasanoda couldn't believe it. Sure, he had blanked out for about a day there, but he honestly hadn't thought word of the incident up in the mountains would have reached this far, let alone reached these two. "Whoa, I don't know what you two heard, but I can explain—"

"Damn right you can explain," said Akutaro. "And you'll have lots of time to do it, too, in prison—"

"Yeah, if we don't kill you first," said Akujiro. "We'd be justified, too, you killing our boss like that in cold blood."

"Hey, as you fucktards can see, Tetsuya's just fine!" Which was a lie, of course, but only Kasanoda had to know that.

The yakuza brothers blinked at him. "We're not talking about _Tetsuya_, numbnuts. We're talking about his father!"

"His father?"

"Yeah. Our boss? Mr Sendou?"

This was news to Kasanoda, who was now thoroughly confused. "Wait a minute. You think I killed the boss of the Sendou group?"

"We found your umbrella at the scene of the crime," said Akujiro.

"And we know you had the motive," said Akutaro. "And that you kidnapped Botchan. Again."

"This time to cover your own ass, so you wouldn't have a witness to testify against you."

"Just couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you?"

"_I didn't kill your boss._" That one, at least, Kasanoda was absolutely certain of. "I didn't even know he was dead."

"You didn't, huh? Then where were you the night he was murdered?"

"At home, watching TV!"

"Anyone to corroborate your alibi? _Alive_, that is?"

"Tetsuya was right there with me—"

"Right! Nice try, but like he's gonna tell us the truth after you've been brainwashing him these last few weeks."

"_Do I _look_ like I could brainwash anyone?_"

Tetsuya, while all this was going on around him, was staring into space as if he were about to have a stroke. Or at least lose his lunch. All the blood had drained from his face, and he hadn't moved or even blinked in a good, solid minute. "Hey, Tetsuya," Kasanoda asked him, "you okay, man?"

"Don't try to change the subject!" said Akutaro and Akujiro.

"Excuse me, assholes, but in case you haven't noticed, _your boss's son_ doesn't look so hot!"

"Oh god," was all Tetsuya could manage, putting a hand to his mouth.

"This isn't good." That was the bartender, who for the first time since Kasanoda entered his establishment seemed genuinely close to worried about something. "You've got to stop your friend," he told Kasanoda.

"Stop him from what?"

"Remembering."

"Well, how in hell do I do _that?_"

"He's a figment of your memory—that is, an illusion brought on by the Memboroshi, the one you consumed not long ago. You brought him here just by thinking about him, remember? Well, it's all starting to come back to _him_ now, too."

It was beginning to make sense to Kasanoda, even though he felt like he was still missing a crucial piece. But how could he stop this phantom Tetsuya from remembering anything? And for that matter, what could it possibly hurt?

"So, this must be the son-of-a-bitch who turned my son against his own family."

Kasanoda felt the blood drain from his own face as he heard those words uttered right by his ear. He didn't recognize it, but he had a pretty good idea who that voice belonged to, and considering that, he didn't dare turn his head to find out if he was right.

The rest of them confirmed it for him.

Akutaro and Akujiro beamed. "Boss!"

Tetsuya swallowed hard. "Dad."

The bartender merely rolled his eyes in defeat and made his calm retreat to the relative safety of the bar.


	24. Destination unknown

Ringo cursed nonsense to herself as she hurried down the seemingly unending corridors of Enma's palace, throwing doors open left and right—and encountering some rather sordid scenes she would have liked very much to forget.

She should have known better than to leave that Tetsuya fellow alone at the punchbowl in a party full of ghosts. She should have recognized the type—a little too curious and sure of himself for his own good—but it was too late to beat herself up over it now. She just hoped he hadn't gotten himself really and truly killed in the meantime.

She slid open the next door and nearly had a heart attack—if she weren't immortal already.

"All right, you kids," Tony the oni said from his place beside a colorful spinning wheel. "You ready for the next one? Here goes. And it's right hand on green! Right hand on green, for the win!"

On the Twister mat on the floor, Tetsuya grunted with the effort and tried to reach over Kannon without either suffocating himself on her billowing silks or losing his balance and falling on his backside.

Ringo was mortified.

"_What in Krampus's name do you think you're doing?_"

Tetsuya craned his neck, but somehow managed to keep from tipping over. "Oh, hey, Beatrice! There you are."

"Yes, here I am!" she huffed and put her hands on her hips. "And here you are, I see, playing games with these charlatans!" She called time out—much to Tony and Kannon's disappointment—and when Tetsuya came bouncing up to her out of breath, she promptly swatted him on the head with a rolled up paper. "What did I tell you about running off? Do you have any idea what these two could have done to you?"

"Don't I know it! You came just in the nick of time. She's got, like, four arms. Don't you think that should count as cheating or something? Another spin and I would have been a goner."

"Yes, you would have been a goner!" Ringo lambasted him. "As in dead! _Really_ dead. Is that what you want for yourself?"

Tetsuya blinked. He lowered his voice. "Does this mean you're going to get me out of here?"

"What did you think I was doing all this time?" Ringo hissed back through clenched teeth. "Do you have any idea what kind of hoops I had to jump through for your sake? If anyone finds out about this . . . Well, it'll be tar pit duty for me, for sure. You know how hard it is to get that stench out of your hair? It's like charred woolly mammoth, you have no idea. . . . Which is nothing compared to what they'll do to _you_, mister—"

"There a problem here?" Kannon asked from the Twister mat.

Ringo flashed her and Tony her most charming smile. "You two just can't help yourselves, can you?"

Kannon smiled innocently as could be. "Whatever could you mean?"

"Aw, come on," said Tony, just as guiltlessly. "We were just having a bit of fun with the chap."

"Oh, yes, I'm well acquainted with your ideas of fun."

"What? Tetsuya was having a great time. Weren't you? Beat both of us here at Texas Hold'em."

"And Candyland."

"Damn that Rainbow Trail. . . ."

Ringo turned to send Tetsuya a glare that promised a painful punishment to come. He grimaced back.

"Well, I'm afraid your little fun time is over, ladies and gents," Ringo said. "Tetsuya's got a tour to finish up, and I promised I'd get him through the next four layers of Hell before the gift shop closes, so if you don't mind . . ."

"Funny," Kannon said to the oni, twirling a braided pigtail around a finger. "I didn't see his round trip pass. Did you, Tony?"

"Come to think of it, Kannon, I did not. And I'm pretty sure I would have remembered if he'd mentioned it."

"Well, guess what, Pippy," Ringo shot back at them. "This soul belongs to me for the duration of his trip. Okay? Rules is rules. Go . . . enlighten someone else, will you? And, Tony—don't make me get out the beans."

Tony the oni spread his hands in defeat and backed off. Kannon seemed more than a little crestfallen to see them leave, but, being a saint of compassion, she wasn't about to stop them with force either. Ringo was quick to push Tetsuya out the door.

"That was a close one," she hissed to him when they were back in the hall. "You have no idea how close it was, either, do you?"

Tetsuya had to almost jog to keep up with the pace she set. "They didn't give me any trouble—"

"Didn't give you any trouble, huh?" Ringo forced a laugh. "My dear, you came _this close_ to losing your soul in this place. _Never_ enter into any bargains with the people here, I told you, no matter how innocent they may seem—"

"What about you? Do you and I have a deal? I've been trying to figure that out."

Ringo considered and sighed hard.

"If only it were that simple. I'm afraid I'm freelancing on this one. (Or is it freewheeling?) Putting a lot on the line for you too, mister, and I do hope you can appreciate that. The truth is, I like you and your friend. And I can't be the only one. If you want my opinion, you'd better thank your lucky stars, because someone up there is looking out for you, hotdog. Let's face it, so far you've been more lucky than good. I mean, come on—the Rainbow Trail?" She shook her head. "I don't know which powers that be be responsible for this, but someone's trying to tell us loud and clear you're not supposed to be here."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but where does that mean I'm supposed to be?"

Ringo stopped and turned to face him, bracing him by the shoulders. "In the world of the living, dum-dum! You came to us only _partly_ dead, haven't you gotten that yet? Now, keep up before those two start getting suspicious there's been a disturbance in the force or something and alert someone—"

No sooner had she said that, of course, than an alarm siren sounded in the hallway. Tetsuya knew better than to hope it was a simple fire drill.

Ringo growled under her breath and grabbed his wrist, jerking him along as she broke into a run.

"I just had to open my big mouth," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" Tetsuya was having a hard enough time keeping up, let alone hearing her over the siren.

"We gotta get out of here before they release the kappa," she yelled back. "They can smell a living spirit from two miles away. I think it's something to do with the bile—"

"Living . . . What, you mean mine?"

"Oh, fer chrissakes— Of course, I mean yours!"

They tore down the corridors and zipped around corners. Ghouls and demons and lesser gods poked their heads out of doorways to see what the commotion was all about, but no one bothered to try and stop the two who were running past—and nearly into—them down the halls. They charged through laundry rooms and kitchens and steaming baths with slippery floors, interrupted a lounge singer, a couple of squash matches, a tea ceremony and countless spirits engaged in compromising activities, but somehow through it all—and apologizing profusely along the way—Tetsuya never found himself out of breath. At least there was one thing about being partly dead that he couldn't complain about.

Then Ringo threw open the final door, and a strong, cold wind immediately whipped around them, pushing them back. They struggled against it, however, and ran out onto a narrow veranda, only to find that when they looked down, the sheer edges of an immense dam disappeared into the mist far below their feet.

Tetsuya gulped. The mist itself appeared to start miles away. He didn't even want to guess where the ground was.

But they pushed on ahead and up a steep, windy trail up the sheer mountain face on the other side. When at last Tetsuya felt like his kneecaps were going to fall off, they reached the top, through which he could see a part in the thick, black clouds of hell through the opening in a grand torii. He didn't know where he was, but something told him that the way back to his own world was somewhere on the other side of that gate.

"Halt, creatures of decay and darkness: ye shall not pass this gate!"

It was a tall young woman who had spoken, whose burgundy hair flowed long down her back and whose flowing Grecian robes made her look even taller still. She had an imperious and cruel kind of beauty about her that said she didn't take no shit from nobody, not no how—even if she was burdened down with an amphora as big as she was, propped up on one shoulder and pouring a steady stream of water into a canal by her feet.

Apparently even Ringo was a tad intimidated by her. Her voice wavered just a little when she said, "Come on, Ayamakoji, we don't have time for tired speeches—"

"_Tired speeches?_" the amphora girl screeched. "You try carrying all the infinite sorrows of the living on your shoulder twenty-four-seven, three hundred sixty-five days a year for all eternity, and then talk to me about tired speeches! Yea, abandon your foolish hope and despair, for I am the jolly debt collector of all your misery!"

"She's the daughter of Accident and Wrong," Ringo whispered aside to Tetsuya, "left here to pour the world's tears out into the four rivers of hell for all time. Leaves her just a tad cranky, as you can see."

"Well, that's just understandable."

"What brings you up this way anyway, huh, Ringo? Cesspool duty not good enough for you?"

Cranky wasn't exactly the word for it, in retrospect. Not even feisty. Downright maliciously bitchy, that was the adjective that best described Ayamakoji, so much so that neither thought twice about trying to just sneak around her. Tetsuya wouldn't put her past smacking them with her humongous amphora if things came to that, and he doubted she would be any less terrifying if she ever put it down.

"I sure hope you're not thinking of smuggling this human out of his just desserts."

"Actually," Ringo stuck out her chest, "I am trying to see justice done, since you bring up the point. He doesn't belong here, and I thought maybe someone like you who's a product of accidental circumstance herself might understand that."

"How dare you talk to me like that! I'll have you know I was a wanted child, thank you very much!"

"Oh, excuse me for implying otherwise. Cry me a river, why don't you— Oh, wait. That's all you _can_ do!"

Ayamakoji bared her teeth. Somehow Tetsuya didn't think it wise to provoke a woman carrying a human-sized piece of pottery, but he didn't exactly want to correct Ringo either, since she knew better than he what she was doing. "Now if you don't mind, we're just going to slide on by, and no one needs to know we were here—"

"Can't let you do that, Ringo."

"Well, you're going to have to, sugarpants. I got his papers right here—"

No sooner had Ringo held up the paper than Ayamakoji reached out and snatched it up without even losing her grip on the amphora. Ringo blanched.

"This is a pardon for returning this spirit to the living world."

"Y-yes."

Ayamakoji studied the document and turned it over. "You typed this on the back of a fake junior paleontologist application from the natural history museum! This isn't even official!"

"Okay, fine! I was just gonna flash it and hope you'd let us pass! But he really doesn't belong here, Sempai, you have to believe me!"

"Oh, I believe he _does_ belong here, all right," Ayamakoji said in a thunderous voice that made the ground almost seem to tremble under their feet. "And I think you'll agree with me that a thousand years or two on ice is the least anyone who did what _he_ did deserves."

"He was accidentally pushed to his death by his friend! How does he deserve to rot for that?"

"My dear Ringo, didn't you do your research? _He betrayed his family name to cavort with his ancestral enemy and committed patricide!_"

Ringo pft'd at her with a dismissive wave, not noticing how Tetsuya paled and suddenly lowered his eyes beside her. "What are you talking about? All that standing you must be suffering oxygen deprivation of the brain. You sure you don't have him confused with someone—"

"No," Tetsuya said. "She's telling the truth."

Ringo looked at him.

"I really did kill my father, and that other stuff she said, too."

Ringo blinked. "Wh-what?"

Ayamakoji looked smug at achieving this small victory over her opponent. But none of that registered with Tetsuya. He had reached the end of the line—literally: there was nothing much beyond them to speak of but a drop into the abyss—and he had known all along in the back of his mind that there would come a time he wouldn't be able to keep it inside anymore, he'd have to tell the truth. If there was ever a better time and place to say it, it had already passed and was beyond his ability to return to. This was all he had left.

He took a deep breath and met their eyes. "Do I at least have a chance to explain myself?"


	25. 真夜中のrendezvous

The tension inside Hotel California, meanwhile, could be cut with a knife.

The record ran out into silence and the bartender didn't bother to turn it over.

Akutaro and Akujiro, while thrilled to see their boss in the flesh, were still quite uncertain what to make of seeing him alive. After all, they had been there at the scene of the crime and seen his dead body with the knife still in it, basting in his own blood like a pierced lava cake.

The phantom Tetsuya must have been equally shocked that he had somehow recalled his deceased father into existence, while Kasanoda was simply trying his best not to move—or do anything that might provoke Mr Sendou into using the pistol that was currently pointed at his head.

The mob boss himself was dressed in the last thing anyone had seen him in, dead or alive: his business slacks from the office that day, the garish tie and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, the apron he used in the kitchen over that. On anyone else, it might have made him appear to have a sensitive side. On Mr Sendou, it not only put a punctuation mark on his seriousness, it also said very clearly that this was a man who did not mind getting a little blood on himself.

"So, Tetsuya," he growled in a voice low with decades of whiskey and cigarettes, "you gonna give me one good reason why I shouldn't take this little prick out right here and now?"

Akutaro and Akujiro's eyes lit up at once with terror and joy. "Are you fucking serious?"

"You would do that, Boss?"

That shook Tetsuya out of his stare. "Right, you wish. This is obviously just a bluff to get me groveling or some stupid shit. It's probably not even real."

In response, Mr Sendou flicked the pistol's aim a couple inches down and to the right, and pulled the trigger. It went off with a loud bang, leaving a smoking hole in the tiled floor. Three of the others jumped instinctively. Tetsuya's jaw fell a little slack.

Kasanoda began to sweat when the piece was pointed back at him. "Um, Tetsuya, I don't think he's bluffing. Now might be a nice time to give him that reason!"

"Don't kill 'im, Dad! He never did anything to you."

"Is that right, now?"

"_That's_ your reason?"

"Bullshit," Akujiro said over him and the boss. "Kasanoda was the one who killed the Boss in cold blood!"

"For the last time, I was never there!" Kasanoda said, gun or not.

"We saw the evidence at the scene," Akutaro backed his brother up.

"What? Waka's umbrella?" Tetsuya shook his head. "I forgot all about that stupid thing. . . . It was only there because I left it when I got the hell out of there."

"You mean, when Kasanoda made you flee the scene, don't you?"

"No, I mean when _I_ fled the scene, _all by myself!_" Tetsuya snapped at them. "He had nothing to do with it because he was _never_ there with me! What part of that can't you assholes get through your heads? _I_ brought Waka's umbrella with me when I went home, and _I_ left it there when I ran away, because _I_ was the one who killed him!"

That managed to shut the yakuza brothers up, and in the ensuing silence Tetsuya's words rang unusually harsh. For several moments, he continued to stare Mr Sendou down. But as soon as his gaze wavered at all and found the young master's, the defiant resolve in it was quick to fade.

"I'm sorry, Waka," he said in a much smaller voice. "I should never have gotten you mixed up in my business."

Mr Sendou's mouth curved into a cruel smile.

"Wait a second," Akutaro began. "Botchan . . . _You_ killed the Boss?"

"But it wasn't my fault," Tetsuya started to say to them, but something stopped him. He amended: "Well, okay, what I mean is, it was an accident. I never _meant_ to kill him. It was never my intent when I decided to go back home that night to do anything of the sort, but . . . I guess it was my fault, when it comes down to it. It was because of me that he died."

—

"Oh, I can feel his wrath from beyond the grave, like millions of unshed tears weighing on my shoulders!" Ayamakoji moaned and bent exaggeratedly under her jug. "How heavy it is—heavy with the guilt of this young man's crimes! _Of his sins!_ It boils and singes the flesh, oh! He is calling to me, the father, saying this was no mere accident!"

"And you would know all about accidents," Ringo grumbled.

"_What did I just get done telling you a minute ago? Ohh!_ You're treading on thin ice, Ringo, I'm warning you!"

"What are you gonna do, Sempai? Put that bucket down and whoop my little butt? As if! Practice your Hamlet or kabuki or whichever on your own time, why don't you, and let him tell his story already!"

"Um, thanks. I guess," Tetsuya muttered as the two women turned their attention back to him, one of them all but steaming at the ears.

He continued:

"Well, like I said, I don't even really know why I went home that night. It was stupid of me now that I look back on it. But I guess somehow I'd gotten it into my head that it was time to ask Dad to disown me once and for all. It's not like I was worried about my inheritance or anything. What was I going to inherit anyway? The Sendou group?

"Maybe there was a time when I would have been fine with that—when I would have just accepted it as my destiny—but I'd changed since I started living at the Kasanoda compound. I wasn't just some punk son of a mob boss anymore. Being around Waka and serving him had changed all that. It made me a better person. Well, I thought it could make me a better person. I guess in the end we can't escape what's just in our nature, huh?

"So I went home that night, and I told the old man I didn't wanna be a Sendou anymore. I didn't feel like one already, and I didn't want to even think that he could up and die one day and I would suddenly be the new Boss—that I'd have to tear myself away from everything I'd come to appreciate about my life with Waka and the guys, and on top of that become their number one rival. I just wanted to leave all that behind me for good."

It came back to him as if it were yesterday as he said the words—the cold hardness of the kitchen floor under his knees and the heels of this hands, under his forehead as he begged to be released from his family name and all the duties that came with it. The realization that the Sendou Tetsuya of just a little over a year ago would never have allowed himself to suffer this sort of humiliation; and that the Sendou Tetsuya of the present not only did so willfully, but with pride in the person he had become, despite the shame he was causing his own father.

Pride in the person the young master had begun to make of him just by being himself.

"I found Dad in the kitchen, making himself dinner. He used to say cooking was one of the best ways to burn off stress, so I guess I figured it would be as good a time as any to let him know what all was on my mind. Catch him while he's most relaxed, you know? At least, that was what I thought.

"As if just seeing my face weren't enough stress for him as it was. I'd hardly spoken a word to him since I left home the first time, after that huge argument we'd had when he actually had threatened to disown me. But back then I had been too reckless, he'd said, and if I wasn't careful I'd get myself killed or wind up some lifer in prison. Either way, I wasn't the kind of son he wanted carrying on his name and his business. But a few days on the street being cold and wet 'cause I was too proud to go back and apologize—not to mention how utterly hopeless it felt to be hungry and completely ignored by everyone who walked by—being invisible like that, getting a first-hand taste of how worthless you are, well, it has a way of clearing your head. And, to make a long story short, when Waka took me in without even knowing or caring what my family name was, and believed in me without even knowing what I'd done with myself, I knew right then I had to change.

"And I did. I completely turned myself around. And, so, I thought Dad would be proud of me for it. I was no longer the kind of person he would be embarrassed to call his son. I had made an honest person of myself—a person who knew the value of hard work and could appreciate kindness when it was shown to him. I owed Waka more than just a debt of gratitude. I owed him my life, 'cause he'd saved mine in every way possible.

"The only catch was, in becoming the kind of person my father could be proud of, I realized I wanted nothing more to do with the Sendou group and, consequently, nothing to do with him."

He should have known.

He should have known his father wasn't the kind of guy who would be happy for his son's happiness. Not when it meant forsaking his own family, anyway—and for the son of his rival, no less. He should have known that his father would see it as no less than a betrayal when he said those words: "I want to cease being a Sendou so I can spend the rest of my life in service to Kasanoda Ritsu."

His father slammed the sushi knife down so hard the edge embedded itself in the wooden cutting board. The force rattled everything on the counter, and that had a way of rattling Tetsuya as well. An involuntary shiver ran through him, and it took every effort to keep his eyes resolutely down. Part of him said his father just wanted to intimidate him into changing his mind. He couldn't allow that to happen. He'd come too far, and believed in what he had to say too much to back down now.

It seemed like forever before his father sighed and grumbled, "What are you trying to do to me, Tetsuya? Is this about money again? Or is it just your idea of payback for last time? Because you'll ruin your old man with talk like that."

"With all due respect, sir, I'm not doing this because of you. I'm not trying to ruin you, or anything like that. For once, this is something I'm doing for myself."

"For once? _For once?_" His father laughed. "As if you've ever done anything for _me_. Or your poor mother. That's a new one. . . . You've been nothing but a leech all your life, and you think now that you've found someone to save you from all your troubles, that automatically makes you different?"

"It's not as simple as that. I work hard—"

"You're still a selfish, spoiled brat! I should know: I made you that way. The only difference now is, you don't even have the good sense anymore to be so because you're a Sendou. So you think you can leave all this behind for Kasanoda's hellspawn, do you, just forget all your responsibilities here like they never existed? It doesn't matter to me if you've found Jesus or whatever else bullshit that boy has rotted your brain with. The fact that you think you can cease to be a Sendou just because you want to—that you think you can come in here and order me to disown my own son—that's the most selfish thing you've thought up yet."

Tetsuya bit the inside of his cheek so hard in keeping quiet, he thought he tasted blood.

The sound of the rain pouring down on the roof and the gravel outside took over in their silence. His cellphone and the umbrella he had borrowed from the young master lay on the floor by the door where he'd left them, leaving him feeling as naked and defenseless as if he'd laid aside his sword and shield. Tetsuya's hands curled anxiously into fists. After a moment, his father slapped a piece of meat onto the cutting board, pried the knife free, and began slicing it in his usual calm and measured technique. Then Tetsuya judged it safe to look up.

"I won't be coming back home," he said.

"Good, 'cause you're not welcome here."

"I'm not fucking aroun—"

Tetsuya clenched his fists tighter, as if that would keep him from faltering.

"I mean it. I'm not coming back. Ever again. Whether you disown me or not, this is it. That's all I came here to tell you. If you ever need me for anything . . . Well, you won't find me here, you can bet on that. I'm through with you, and I'm through with your business."

There. He'd said it. Even if his heart was beating double-time because of it, and the deep breath he took shook. The words were out, and he would never have to take them back or swallow them ever again. He didn't care if he went through the rest of his life nameless, but he was through being a Sendou.

The knife stilled in his father's hand, and he looked up. Funny how it felt as though he could read Tetsuya's very thoughts with that look and at the same time manage to be so oblivious to them.

"I'm going to spend the rest of my life on this earth serving Kasanoda's son, and there's nothing you can do that's going to stop me or make me change my mind. You'd be doing both of us a favor, Dad, if you just made it official."

The slicing of pork slowly and steadily resumed.

"That would be convenient for you, wouldn't it? Cut the shit, Tetsuya. What's my rival paying you for the loyalty of Sendou's son?"

"_He's_ not paying me anything. Not like you think. This isn't extortion. I'm doing this for Wa—"

Tetsuya stopped himself just in time.

"For Ritsu," he revised. "Plain and simple. He's nothing like any of these thugs you've got working for you. Sure, he might seem a little frightening on the outside, but he's really selfless and kind when you get to know him, and—well, I know it's probably hard to believe coming from me, but he makes me want to be somebody else. Somebody good."

For whatever reason, it felt like a part of him was being sliced up on that board.

"I love him."

He said it so quietly, and Sendou never missed a beat with the knife that for a little while Tetsuya was sure his father hadn't heard the last part. If he had, it might have meant trouble for Tetsuya like he couldn't imagine, so what on earth had possessed him to say it?

The simple fact that it was the truth? That it had been clawing at his insides like something struggling to get out for longer than he could say? Wasn't that reason enough?

"Come here."

Tetsuya's heart skipped a beat, but he kept his gaze down and didn't move.

"I said, come 'ere, boy. You listening to me?"

His father had put the knife down and had come around to the other side of the island counter, his hands on his hips. Maybe he only wanted to make what he had to say clearer, but something about his manner nonetheless gave Tetsuya serious misgivings—something about his father that made him look like a butcher. "I'd rather not, sir."

"It wasn't a suggestion. Get your ass over here!"

He rose to obey, telling himself that whatever his father said to him, he had right on his side. He had made his decision for the right reasons, and he wasn't going to allow himself to be intimidated into backing down, not even by his own father.

He was about to tell the man off when Sendou grabbed his wrist and jerked it forward. "Hey!" Tetsuya cried. It threw him off balance, and it smarted, but it wasn't the first time his father had raised a hand against him. It was just the first time in some ten years, and a part of him had thought he'd grown out of it.

"You know what my old man would have done to me if I told him the kind of shit I've just heard coming out of your mouth?" Sendou growled. "First he'd give me a beating like you've never seen, and then, just to make sure I didn't forget the lesson, he'd give me a little something to remember it by."

Tetsuya's gaze went to the sushi knife on the counter, then to his own hand, splayed in his father's grip. He wished then he could tuck his fingers in like the sea anemones he had teased as a kid.

But maybe he lacked that same sense of self-preservation, because it didn't stop him from opening his big mouth.

"What is this, the Edo period? This isn't a fucking movie, Dad. Quit joking around!"

"_This isn't a joke!_"

And Tetsuya knew he was telling the truth. He had seen enough fingers missing tips over the years as the Sendou boss's son. He tried to imagine how it would feel to lose one himself, and he couldn't do it. He couldn't picture his father doing that to his own flesh and blood, no matter how they'd gotten along—or hadn't—in the past.

Sendou grabbed the sushi knife in his other hand, and Tetsuya flinched, before he noticed it was being pointed at his face.

"You think you're such a badass," his father said, "so proud of yourself with that Band-Aid you wear around, but you don't have the first idea what real pain is. How'd you like a _real_ scar, boy, one you can't just cover up or show off like a friggin' trophy? _Huh?_ Something to remind you what a disgrace you've made of yourself and your family every time you look in the mirror—let everyone who sets eyes on you know what an ungrateful little bastard you really are—"

"You wouldn't— Not to your own son—"

"My son? _You_ have the balls to talk to _me_ about being my son after what you've put me through? Weren't you the one who came crawling back here begging to be disowned? When I was your age, and a young man did what you did, he'd at least have the sense to do the honorable thing and cut his stomach! But not today. No, nowadays it's all cowards and nancy boys who talk back to their fathers, running off after their family's enemies like some stupid schoolgirl—"

"Maybe it's _you_ who oughtta cut his stomach then, if I turned out to be such a failure to you! 'Cause it must have been something _you_ did wrong, right, something bad in the genes I got from you to make me turn out this way! I certainly didn't get that from Mom—"

Tetsuya hardly had a chance to finish. The breath was forced out of him as his father grabbed the collar of his jacket hard.

"How dare you talk to me that way. Get your head out of the fucking clouds, Tetsuya! You have no idea—"

"No, _you_ have no idea! This is _my life_, and you can't stop me from doing what I know is right—"

"The hell I can't! You're still a Sendou as long as I have anything to do with it, and I am through sitting on my hands while our reputation is marred by some asinine infatuation of yours—"

"What're you gonna do about it, huh? Let go of me! I'm sick and tired of trying to make you understand. I'm out of here—"

"Over my dead body, you are!"

While they yelled over one another like so, Tetsuya struggled to free himself of his father's grip, just as Sendou was struggling to get his point across, whether doing so took the form of a fresh scar on his son's face or not. All Tetsuya knew for certain was that the sushi knife clutched tight in his old man's grip was too close for comfort while their emotions were that charged, and he had to get it out of the way before either of them could begin to reason with each other like adults.

After a few tense moments, he managed to twist it free, and was just about to throw it down on the counter where it couldn't do any harm when . . . something happened. He wasn't even sure how it happened, only that all of a sudden his father's angry words cut off and Tetsuya looked down to see the knife's blade embedded in him.

With himself left holding the handle.

Both were too stunned to do anything at first, as if someone had hit the pause button on reality. When it finally did sink in for Tetsuya, he let go of the handle like it had burned him. It was self-defense, was the thought that sprang to mind. An accident. He wasn't responsible. He couldn't be responsible for this.

But as he stared first at the blood on his hands, and then into his father's bulging eyes, Tetsuya knew what a lie that was.

"Tet . . . tsu—" his father managed to gasp before collapsing.

His weakened grip found no purchase on the kitchen counter and he crumpled to the floor, where he lay choking for breath.

Tetsuya found it difficult to breathe himself. This wasn't happening, he told himself with every hammer of his heart. But the longer he stared at his father's prone form, the more aware he became of the quiet house around him, the pouring rain outside, the blood on his hands and cold inevitability of the situation closing down around him. . . .

He bolted for the door.

—

Tetsuya trailed off in the telling of his story, and the lounge fell silent. All eyes remained fixed on him.

He sheepishly found his father's among them. "And then I ran off. There wasn't anything I could do except stand there and watch him die—"

"All you could think about was your own ass at a time like that—"

"No, Dad, I wasn't thinking about what was going to happen to me. All that was going through my mind was, Oh my god, what have I done? I've killed my own father with my selfishness."

"And yet you did nothing to help me."

"What could I have done? Really. I don't know the first thing about first aid, and anyway, anyone could see it would all be over in a matter of minutes."

But how long those few minutes must have been. And it was a lie when Tetsuya said he hadn't spared any thought for himself. Maybe there wasn't anything he could have done to change the outcome, but that did not excuse the fact that he hadn't tried. As soon as he'd realized what he'd done—as soon as he'd seen the handle of that knife protruding from his father's torso and seen the blood smeared on his own hands—he had backed away in horror of what he'd become.

A murderer, worse even than the father he had wanted so badly to renounce, and all because he had the audacity to think he could just run away and leave who he had been behind. Wasn't that what they called irony?

"Alright, so I was wrong and a coward for doing nothing, but what does any of that matter now? It's not like we can go back in time. I already tried that, and all I did was get myself stuck and killed in the Edo period."

Tetsuya shook his head.

"The fact is, I'm more sorry than I could ever say. Of course, if I could, I'd undo everything in a heartbeat. You know I would. I should have known better than to think I could change what I am and always have been. You live by the sword, you die by the sword, right? And it was stupid of me to think something like love could overcome who you were born to be, no matter how pure or strong a force you think it is. The fact of the matter is, love can't change shit."

"Wait," Kasanoda said, forgetting the gun for a second. "When you said you loved me, you meant, like, platonic, right?"

Tetsuya blushed. "Well, not entirely."

"What, you mean, um, physically?"

"Well, not to put too fine a point on it or anything, but, yeah. As it turns out, I appear to be queer for you— But do we really need to get into details in front of all these guys? My dad's listening, for god's sake. I mean, so what if I am just a fake Tetsuya, it's still embarrassing."

Kasanoda could only stare at him as he found himself—for once in his life—the object of someone else's confession. Well, if this strange, round-about sort of admission counted as a confession. His best friend, the young man who had been sweeping his walk and clearing his dishes every morning and evening, turned out to be in love with him; and while something told him his first reaction should have been to be a little creeped out, all he could manage to feel was an overwhelming sense of loss.

He took a step forward. "Tetsuya—"

Sendou's grip on the pistol tightened, stopping him in his tracks.

"So the truth comes out. Thank you, Tetsuya. That's all the reason I need to put this punk out of both of our misery."

Tetsuya blinked. "But, Dad, it wasn't his fault. He never asked me to feel this way."

Kasanoda wanted to nod vigorously, but having a gun trained on oneself tends to quell such urges.

"Of course, it's his fault. He must have done something to you to make you feel so unnaturally you'd want to betray your own family for him in the first place. He's responsible because he exists. But fortunately that's a problem I can rectify right now—"

"No, don't!"

Forget kid gloves, Tetsuya left the bar stool and stepped forward to confront his father face to face. "We're both figments of his imagination," he said. "You kill him now and you and me both disappear, just like that. Forever this time. And I really doubt either of those jerkoffs are gonna spare a single brain cell to bring you back."

He didn't need to point or even tilt his head in their direction. Akutaro and Akujiro exchanged glances and tried to look invisible.

Sendou narrowed his eyes at his son. "And in order to protect this scumbag's life, you would deny your father's spirit the justice you know he deserves."

"I was pushed to my own death by the very person I left you for." Tetsuya shrugged. "I'd say you got your revenge."

His eyes met Kasanoda's. But whatever blame or resentment the young master might have thought he'd find in them was absent. Just the same devotion and admiration he had seen that day Tetsuya came to school to bring him his umbrella, and wound up telling him he wanted to devote the rest of his life to serving Kasanoda.

"What is this sweet aroma? I can only think of one thing so heavenly, so perfect, so . . . Yes. But could it really be? Could I have finally found what I've been searching for?"

Over at the other end of the bar, the old man whom the two travelers had encountered so frequently on their journey was speaking as one who has stumbled into a fabulous dream—or spotted a glimmering oasis after forty years of wandering in his own personal desert and found it not to be a mirage. An empty Memboroshi glass sat by his elbow, and his cheeks had the rosy glow of a teenager, nor was it difficult to see why.

An elegant woman in kimono with long, shimmering hair pulled into a bun had joined the bartender behind the counter. She placed a few plates of old-fashioned home cooking before the old man, but it was the steaming bowl of soup that drew all of his attention.

That was, until he gazed up into her face.

"Now I see," he said. "All this time, I was so busy looking under every stone and eave for that magical combination of ingredients that would produce the perfect bowl of soup, I must have forgotten the only one that truly mattered. It's not the stock or the spices or how long you boil it, but the love that goes into it. That is what makes it perfect."

"Whatever happened to your pride, Tetsuya?" Sendou asked his son. "Your self-respect? You don't mean to tell me you don't want this son of a bitch to suffer for ending your life."

"How could I? Like I said, I owed him my life. I know he never meant to hurt me. If anything, I'm angry at myself for not being more grateful for what I did have, because now I'll never again have even the simple satisfaction of welcoming him home from school."

Ever so reluctantly, Sendou lowered his pistol, a momentary surrender.

The phantom Tetsuya turned back to Kasanoda.

"I'm sorry, Waka. I know you never planned to go to Ise alone, and that you only agreed to go with me because I promised you nothing bad would happen, but as you can probably tell by now I'm not real good at keeping promises. Not when they really matter, anyway."

"You knew all along you were dead?"

For a second, Tetsuya could only blink. Then he chuckled. "_That's_ what you're worried about? Yeah. I mean, I didn't know at first, but I figured it out. I guess it came back to me."

"That was probably my fault," Kasanoda thought out loud. If this Tetsuya were just a figment of his imagination, then he probably couldn't hide his thoughts from him as well as he'd thought.

He grabbed his friend by the sleeve, just to feel his arm beneath it and know he was still there, even if he was just a phantom and a facsimile. He already seemed a little too soft-focus. "Tetsuya. I don't know what to do. If I stop drinking those drinks, you'll disappear."

"Then don't drink any more."

"What?" Kasanoda and Sendou said at the same time.

Tetsuya ignored the latter. "Don't drink any more, I said. Just let me go. Won't do you any good to have my ghost hanging over your shoulder everywhere you go anyway."

"But I don't want to keep going without you."

That struck Tetsuya dumb for a moment, and even Kasanoda was surprised by the words that had come out of his mouth. Which didn't make them any less true. After all they'd been through on the road to Ise, just the thought of reaching the Shrine without Tetsuya, let alone returning to his own time without Tetsuya, was . . . unimaginable to say the least. Maybe it was selfish of him, but that was the real injustice in his mind.

But what else could he do? Stay here asleep for the rest of his life? What was done was done, and he was the one who had gone and done it.

"Waka," the phantom Tetsuya muttered, "you know I'm not real."

"I know."

"Then let me go. If you have to keep me, then keep me where I belong—as a memory in your heart—and keep on living the way you've been living. Be that kind-hearted young man I fell for all those months ago. Okay? You owe me that much. Don't let it all've been in vain just because of one stupid little accident. Trust me on that."

Kasanoda blushed. "You sound like such a sap."

"Spoiled brat," Tetsuya teased back, punching his arm.

"I'm going to miss you. I mean that."

Tetsuya wanted to say the same, but could only trust himself to nod in response. He cleared his throat, and turned back to his father. "Satisfied?"

"No, but I guess it'll have to do." Sendou tucked his piece back inside the waistband of his trousers at the small of his back. "I suppose I can console myself that the prick will have to carry the guilt of my son's death around for the rest of his life."

"Dad—"

"What? I think that's about right, don't you?"

It was, but neither Kasanoda nor Tetsuya thought he had to put it so bluntly.

Something in his expression softened a bit, though, when he said: "I really was proud of you, though, Tetsuya. For making something better of yourself and sticking to your guns. And I would never have hurt you. I just want you to know that. Even if I don't agree with you, and still can't forgive you for everything else. You understand."

He shot Kasanoda such a look that the young man had no doubt Sendou still blamed him every bit as much as before.

"I guess that's fair," Tetsuya said.

"But as much as I wish I could hate you for killing me—much as I tell myself you deserve nothing less—somehow I find it impossible. Must be because you're my son, no matter how much you wish you weren't."

Tetsuya managed a weak, lopsided smile at that. The man's expression was as hard and unforgiving as ever, but that small admission was as close to warmth as Tetsuya might ever have hoped to receive from his father. As minuscule a victory as it was, it was a victory nonetheless.

Sendou's outline began to flicker first. Then a strange burst of clarity occurred to Kasanoda, and the two phantoms vanished in a literal blink of the eye.


	26. With catlike stealth

By the time Tetsuya had finished his explanation of events, Ayamakoji's ferocious temperament appeared to have calmed, her cruel-beautiful features softened into an expression not quite approaching sympathy, but at least no longer openly hostile. "Then you plead guilty to the charges put before you."

Ringo, who was dabbing at her eyes and nose with a handkerchief, squeaked at her: "You're asking the boy that after he's just got done spilling his guts to us? You really were born without a heart, weren't you?"

Ayamakoji turned beet-red. "That is a fallacy and you know it! Of course, I have a heart!" She pouted. "It just happens to be made of stone."

"Oh, well, that explains it, then."

Once again, Tetsuya felt like a piece of furniture. "If I say yes to that, does that mean I'm damned?"

The two blinked at him for a moment. Then Ringo sobered. "No, no, no, no, no, nothing of the sort—"

"'Cause after all that reminiscing, I kinda wanna return to life and go on being by Waka's side more than ever. I might have failed my old man, but what's done is done. And besides, none of that can change the fact I have a duty to _him_ now. And what kind of person would I be if I didn't fulfill it because I went and fell down a well?"

"You stick by your decision to choose Kasanoda Ritsu over your own father—even after what he did to you," Ayamakoji stated more than asked.

"Yes. I'll always be sorry for what I did to Dad, but Waka's still out there somewhere, and I owe it to him to be there every step of the way. Because of what he did _for_ me. I can't just give up."

A lightbulb dinged on from beneath the crossbeam of the torii. Seeing it, Ayamakoji heaved a huge sigh and hefted the amphora higher on her back as though it weighed hardly anything at all.

"Then I see I have no choice. As much as I can't abide low-life backstabbers like you, the father's vengeful spirit has nonetheless been appeased. Even if it is against _my_ better judgment, I have no right to keep someone here who is only partly dead. The shame he carries with him shall have to be his penance."

Ringo sniffled and brightened. "You mean—"

"He can have his stupid life back!"

Despite the grudging tone of that admission—and the blood vessel getting ready to pop in the other girl's forehead—Ringo squealed for joy and grabbed Tetsuya's arms. It took another moment for the implication to sink in for him.

"So, you're letting me out of here? Just like that?"

"Well, don't go and bite a gift horse in the mouth, hopscotch. You want to rejoin your friend in the land of the living, don't you?"

"And how."

"Then shut up and go, you lucky little rascal!" Ringo turned to Ayamakoji. "So, ah, where _does_ he go now, anyway? Usually I take a more direct route to the living world. I've never been out this way before."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Tetsuya knew she should never have asked. Ayamakoji smiled wickedly and stepped side, gesturing with her free hand to what lay on the other side of the cliff.

Then Tetsuya could hear it. He didn't want to look, but he already knew what he would find when he did: an immense, roaring waterfall, wider and louder than Victoria Falls and Iguaçu combined, and taller than he could even begin to compare for all the foam and mist being kicked up by the thing. In fact, it was so epic in size, there was nothing but roiling water as far as he could see, broken by not even a single outcrop of rock.

His mouth must have fallen open, because Ayamakoji sent a sadistic smirk his way.

"Magnificent, isn't it? You see before you the sum of all the world's tears. _That_ is the true source of the four rivers of the netherworld. You didn't think a little old jug could hold them _all_, did you?"

"Hold on a sec," Tetsuya picked his jaw up off the ground to say. "You're not actually suggesting I have to jump into that thing!"

"He's not as dumb as I thought," Ayamakoji said to Ringo. "Yes, mortal, that is exactly what I'm suggesting."

"You're insane!"

"Of course I am, but it is the only way out of here. You don't believe me, ask your precious guide."

Tetsuya turned to Ringo, who had a rather guilty look on her face. "Well, I'm afraid I can't take you back the other way without risking your capture by the local authorities—"

"Great."

"But I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks! I mean, you're already in hell, right? What do you have to lose except maybe dying for real this time? Hey, do you think Flynn gave it a second thought when he jumped into the MCP?"

That wasn't the least bit reassuring—let alone sensical—but she did have one point. If he didn't jump, his only other options were being stuck here in hell or being stuck here in hell. On the other hand, if he did, and if the amphora girl wasn't just lying to him, the chance was good he would be able to see the young master again, and he could think of nothing he wanted more than that. Whatever pain he had to go through to achieve that was negligible in comparison.

But it was one thing to tell himself that, and quite another to actually work up the courage to take the plunge.

"You want me to give you a little push?" Ringo suggested half-heartedly.

"No. I can do this." The words came out before Tetsuya really knew what he was saying. "I _have_ to do this. I got myself into this mess in the first place, and it's up to me to get myself out. If I've been given a second chance, then the best thing I can do is shut up and take it, and don't think twice."

Ringo rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, one thing I'll say for you, kid, you've got balls."

It was all love, he wanted to correct her, but on second thought, maybe love itself did take a certain amount of brass ones. There was no way Tetsuya could think of to thank her sufficiently, so he let things be with that. He steeled himself for the fall instead. It looked like it was going to be really, _really_ cold down there. Best not to think about that.

So he took a deep breath, held his nose, and stepped off the ledge into the void.

He thought he might have heard Ayamakoji's maniacal laughter over the surge as he fell, but the roar of all those rushing tears was so deafening, he might have just imagined it.

—

The phantoms of Tetsuya and his father had departed so suddenly, for a moment all Kasanoda could do was stare into the air where they had been. As if any minute he might imagine his friend back into existence. He hadn't even had a proper chance to say good-bye.

In fact, now that he was alone again, there were a lot of things he could suddenly think of that he'd never had a chance to say.

And now never would. That was still taking its time sinking in.

Behind him at the bar, from the general direction of Akutaro and Akujiro, came the faint sounds of retching. All the feelings being uncorked and poured out in the open must have made them a little sick to their stomachs, because though they were undoubtedly exaggerating about throwing up in their mouths, both looked a little green around the gills as they glared at Kasanoda.

Kasanoda thought he heard some nonsense about him corrupting their manly boss Tetsuya with fag germs before he could stand it no more. Did they really have that little a concept of tact?

"What're you assholes still doing here? In case it hasn't sunk into your thick skulls yet, your boss is dead. Both of 'em."

"No thanks to you!" Akujiro shot back.

"It was because of you that this whole mess started in the first place," his brother added.

"That may be correct in the spirit of things, but name-calling and pointing fingers won't do anything to change what was done."

It was the bartender who stepped in for Kasanoda. Something in his voice or sharp, bespectacled stare, or perhaps something more to do with the shot glasses he set down before the two brothers had an hypnotic effect on Akutaro and Akujiro. They could not tear their eyes away from his face.

"As the gentleman said, both of your masters have passed on into the next world, wherever that may be. There is nothing for you in this place and time any longer. Don't you think it would be best to return whence you came and make plans for the future? Isn't that what your boss would want if he were here?"

"He's got a point," Akutaro said grudgingly to Akujiro.

"Yeah, but I hate to see a murderer go unpunished."

"Only a _coincidental_ murderer," the bartender amended with a brilliant grin.

Whatever his intent may have been, Kasanoda couldn't help bristling a bit at that.

But the spell managed to sink into its intended targets.

"Ah, screw it," said Akutaro, slamming back his shot glass without a single thought as to what was inside. "What are we doing wasting our time in this dump? Let's get out of here."

After downing his own shot, Akujiro couldn't agree more.

When they were finally gone—and not a moment too soon—Kasanoda nodded his thanks to the bartender, who had returned indifferently to polishing glasses. "I owe you one, man."

"No, you don't."

"Yeah, I do. If it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be. Probably a sad wreck. I'd never know just how much Tetsuya meant to me, that's for sure. I mean, I knew he meant a lot, but I never would have been able to appreciate just how much I depended on him, and how much I took advantage of his always being there. Even though knowing hurts worse than anything, I think it's better than not, you know?"

"Well, that's all fine and good, but why don't you tell him to his face?"

Kasanoda was about to ask him what he could possibly mean by that—he wasn't sure he had the stomach for another Memboroshi, or that it would even work the next time around—when the bartender gestured over his head.

He turned around slowly, not sure what to expect, but expecting anything other than what he found.

It was Tetsuya, stumbling into the establishment through the back door with a clatter of pots and pans, and looking quite the worse for wear. His ponytail was coming undone and his clothes were torn and muddied, his whole person soaked to the bone.

And, boy, was he a sight for sore eyes.

Kasanoda bolted upright. "Tetsuya?"

Tetsuya found him across the lounge and blinked. "Waka?"

"Is that really you?"

"I don't know. I think so? You _can_ see me, right?"

"Yeah. You look like you just crawled out of a toilet."

Tetsuya colored. "Well, some idiot did kinda push me down a well, in case you've forgotten. Spoiled brat. . . ."

"Better than a drowned rat."

"Spoiled brat."

"Drowned rat."

"Spoiled brat!"

Kasanoda broke into a grin. "It is you."

That was all he needed to say. Tetsuya looked like he was about to burst into tears as he came limping forward. Kasanoda hardly trusted himself to speak as well, what with his heart feeling as though it had jumped into his throat and lodged itself there. Strange how it could hurt so much to feel this overjoyed, but he wasn't about to complain.

When they were within reach of one another, he started to pull Tetsuya into a hug, but at the last moment cleared his throat and settled for taking him by the arms instead. He told himself it was because of the curious smell coming off of his friend, but that wasn't completely accurate. At least this time he knew Tetsuya's solidness wasn't going to disappear on him anytime soon. There would be other chances to better convey his relief.

But, "How did you survive? I mean, I was pretty sure I'd killed you. Not that I'd want that, nothing could be farther from the truth, but . . . What happened down there?"

Tetsuya gave him a lopsided grin. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"No. No, I could probably say the same thing." Kasanoda sighed. "Tetsuya, do you think you can ever forgive me for almost killing you? I know I don't deserve it, but I'm really, really sorry, and I don't want to lose you. See, I've come to a realization in the last few days, and I probably should have told you before—you know, when I had the chance—that you're easily the best friend I've ever had, and everything I said to you back there on that mountain about how I never wanted to come on this trip to begin with . . . Well, the truth is, these last few weeks have been the best few weeks of my life, and there's nothing I would change about any of it. Er, I mean, aside from the part about pushing you into the well, of course—"

"Waka?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

And with that, Tetsuya leaned forward and pressed his mouth hard to Kasanoda's.

Kasanoda froze. Even Tetsuya couldn't entirely believe what he had done. But as wonderful as it felt to finally have the young master's lips against his, he had to break away almost as soon as he'd initiated the kiss, his face bright red.

"Er, sorry about that," he stammered. "That just came out of nowhere, didn't it? It's just, see, I've had a really harsh last couple of days, too. First I was at this dead man's party, and then I was playing Twister for my immortal soul and had to jump into the biggest waterfall you've ever seen just to get back here—"

Kasanoda wasn't listening. Still stunned, "That was my first kiss," was all he could mutter.

"What I'm trying to say is, it really gives you a clearer sense of priorities, almost dying. You know? There's some things that're just too important to keep to yourself, or you might never get a chance to say them at all." Tetsuya sobered. "Waka, I'm sorry, but there's something I've gotta come clean about. You see, this whole mess . . . Well, it's all my fault—"

"You don't have to tell me."

"No, I do! I deceived you from the very beginning. The whole reason I made you come on this trip was—"

"I already know." That stopped Tetsuya in his tracks, and Kasanoda told him again, "I know all about it."

"You do?" Kasanoda nodded, and Tetsuya blushed. "Well, of course you know about _that_, no thanks to me. But this is more serious. Waka, I'm afraid I've done something unforgivable—"

"Yeah. Actually, I know about that, too."

"How?"

A little uncertain how to answer that one, Kasanoda glanced back at the bar. But the old man was busy mooning sleepily over the young woman who had served him soup, and the bartender was steadfastly ignoring them both, so he was on his own explaining this one.

"Um, let's just say I had a vision? I'll fill you in on the way to Ise."

"Done." Tetsuya looked away. "Then, you don't hate me for not telling you the truth from the beginning?"

"How could I? I mean, it could have turned out worse, but I don't think I could ever hate you, Tetsuya. Not as much as I hated myself for almost killing you."

"Emphasis on the 'almost.' Is it too much to hope that means you're okay with, ah, the other bit—"

"Well. . . ." Kasanoda rubbed the back of his neck. "It's still a little weird trying to wrap my head around you liking me that way, but I'll get used to it I guess. It's just, I'm not into guys—"

"Neither am I!" Tetsuya was quick to say. "Well, normally, I mean."

Before the young master could come up with an awkward response to that, a curious, moving bulge in the front of Tetsuya's jacket he hadn't noticed before made him step back.

"Oh," Tetsuya said and pulled the zipper down. To Kasanoda's surprise, a furry head poked out and two beady black eyes blinked back at him. "Tanuki!"

"See? It did survive the swim to shore after all," Tetsuya explained. "Must have been following us or something, because somehow it found me when I was in the well and brought me baked yams. If not for that, I don't know if I'd've had the strength to climb out. I think that was its way of paying you back for saving its life earlier, Waka, by saving mine."

"How did he bake the yams?" Kasanoda mumbled to himself, scratching the little critter behind the ear.

"Oh, yeah. And, Waka? Turns out Tanuki's really a she."

She let out a squeaky bark, and Kasanoda let her climb onto his shoulder, where she hung staring contentedly back at Tetsuya.

"Looks like I'm not your only fan," Tetsuya said with a grin.

Seeing the tanuki again, Kasanoda suddenly remembered why they had started this trip in the first place. With the sea crashing off the Ise Peninsula outside the lounge's windows, the Shrine beckoned, less than a day's walk away. What had seemed an impossible dream as recently as fifteen minutes ago was rekindled in him once again, as it was now clear they would reach Ise after all, and do it together.

Except this time, no matter how much he still cared for Fujioka and wanted to return to his own time, making it there with Tetsuya beside him was the only thing that truly mattered.

There was just one little problem. Kasanoda wasn't even sure how he'd stumbled into this place, let alone how to get out.

He turned back to the bartender. "What's the quickest way out of here? We've gotta get to Ise, and fast."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay the night and head out in the morning better rested? We have some very well-appointed rooms—"

"No time!" said Tetsuya. "We've wasted enough as it is."

"Well, there are three ways, really," said the bartender. "You can either survive three years of service within the hotel or you can pay a fee of one-and-a-half million dollars."

The other two just stared at him.

"Didn't you say there are three ways?" Kasanoda said.

"I did."

"Then the third?"

The bartender just smiled and placed a platter of cakes and confections on the counter in front of the boys.

"Dessert."

"No thanks," Tetsuya said.

They never got any further than that. A cadre of police stormed the premises, stepping lightly and chanting "Tarantara, tarantara" in quick unison. Their navy uniforms and swords were Edo period, but the helmets on their heads and gloves on their hands were straight out of Victorian London. "Stop right there!" the officer in charge of them said. "Kasanoda Ritsu, you are under arrest for the murder of Sendou Tetsuya."

"_Huh?_" said Kasanoda.

Tetsuya stepped out from behind him with a hand raised. "Um, I think there's been a mix-up. That's me, you see, and I'm just fine now. But thanks anyway."

"Impossible. We have an eyewitness that puts your friend here at the scene of the crime."

"That's him!" said Suzuo, pushing to the front of the squad and pointing. "That's the guy right there! I saw him push that other fellow into the— Huh?"

Apparently, he too was surprised to see the supposed murder victim alive and well. The police, for the moment at least, stood looking back and forth at one another and mumbling—"Tarantara?"—unsure what to do next.

They had no time to make a decision, because the next moment, the far wall exploded inward and an enormous African elephant charged straight through, throwing its trunk back to herald itself with a triumphant trumpet.

The police and Suzuo crowded around the old man at the end of the bar.

The bartender just sighed and whipped out a rag to wipe the bits of plaster from the bar counter.

Kasanoda and Tetsuya stood aghast as the elephant made a beeline for where they stood. That was, until the former got a good look at the person who was leading it on.

"Morinozuka-sempai!"

The tall third-year seemed unusually dwarfed by his mount, but every bit as serious as he peered down at them, and said simply, "Get on."

The way he phrased it, it wasn't a suggestion.

"Well, you heard him," Tetsuya said, shaking Kasanoda out of his stare. "What's with the googly eyes, Mr I'm Not Into Guys? Let's go!"

And the two travelers wasted no more time. Here was their ticket out of this place—and out of this mess with the police. They hopped up on the bar and somehow managed to climb up into the beast's saddle, Kasanoda holding the horn in a death grip, Tetsuya and the tanuki holding onto him nearly as tight.

Mori tugged on the reins and the elephant bucked up on its hind legs, letting out another window-rattling, earth-shaking trumpeting cry before charging for the exit.

The policemen who had thought in vain to try and stop their retreat by forming a Red Rover line, scattered for their lives, and the elephant and its passengers were off, barreling through the halls of the Hotel California.

They passed a lost Akutaro and Akujiro along the way. Once the two had sufficiently rubbed their eyes and realized it was not an apparition, and that they were in fact seeing Kasanoda and their boss's son on the back of an humongous elephant, the effects of their shots disappeared. As the tide of men in blue chanting "Tarantara, tarantara!" and one scammed scam artist bore down on them, they joined it in pursuit of the stampeding beast, shouting their encouragement with obscenities and raised fists.

But it was all little more than background noise to Kasanoda and Tetsuya where they sat. The building may have been designed to be a maze, but from the back of an African bull elephant, there was no stopping them from creating their own exit. And once they were on the open highway, the cops and yakuza brothers were simply incapable of keeping up with them. Freedom was theirs.

From his spot just above the creature's shoulders, Morinozuka turned back to make sure they were still onboard and all right. He didn't say anything when he saw they were, just smiled ever so slightly.

"Um, thanks, Sempai," Kasanoda said, feeling like he'd better say something. "You came just in the nick of time. How can we ever make this up to you?"

"It's no problem," came the wooden response. The tanuki wasted no time saddling up to the third-year.

"So, where are you taking us anyway?"

"Ise."

"As if you needed to ask, Waka," Tetsuya shouted by his ear. "Look!"

They came out through a break in the pines to see the sandy beach of the Ise coast stretched out below the pale cliffs. Nestled among the dense trees between the water and the hills were the roofs of temples, and out amid the waves were sacred rocks encircled with paper garlands. Tetsuya could almost taste the grilled fast food of the vendors along the pilgrimage roads, and even at this distance swore he could hear the pounding of festival drums—though that admittedly might just have been the vibration of the elephant's massive footfalls. Even the pilgrims who scurried out of their way seemed to him to have an air of bliss about them, mirroring the same relief that he felt with his whole person.

"We've finally made it," he said to the young master. "After everything we had to go through to get here. . . ."

It all just melted away. Whether it had anything to do with the geography or not, nothing could change the fact that they had made it here together against everything Providence could throw at them, and in light of that, their troubles left back home, far away in space and time, no longer seemed so insurmountable.

But there would be plenty of time to go sight-seeing and take in the healing atmosphere of the Shrine later, after they'd found a nice inn where they could unwind. Maybe get a hot bath and something to eat. At present, however, Tetsuya was exhausted. They were on salvation's doorstep, not far at all from town, and with his arms wrapped securely around the young master, he didn't think it could hurt to rest his eyes for just a few minutes.

A grin on his face, Tetsuya leaned his chin on Kasanoda's shoulder. He normally didn't consider himself the kind of person who believed in such certainties, but he was surprised to find he could honestly say, at that moment, that he was the most content he could ever remember being in his life.

There was an old Buddhist folktale that told of a monkey who gave the Buddha a lotus blossom, fell stone dead on the spot, and was immediately reborn as a Brahmin, so that he might achieve enlightenment at the end of his days.

That was what occurred to Tetsuya as he was riding that elephant, for all of .06 seconds—which, in dream-time, can last anywhere between a few minutes and fifty years, or however long it takes to contemplate eternity. He was thinking how he felt a little like how that monkey must have, and he wouldn't have cared in the least if a bolt of lightning struck him dead right then and there. He would have died complete.

Naturally, the moment that thought popped into his head was the moment it all began to fade out.


	27. EdoからNew York, 8 or 9 times out of 10

Strangely enough, it was Ibe's voice that brought him back. Like it was coming to him through deep water, he heard the gangster cussing at the top of his lungs about how he was going to murder the son of a bitch who had stolen his car. Though it seemed no one else was taking this threat very seriously. (He did sort of bring it on himself for never locking his doors, they were quick to remind him.)

For some reason Tetsuya couldn't immediately understand, Ibe's ranting—which he would usually have found somewhat comical—filled him with an inexplicable sense of anxiety. He blinked open his eyes, only to have them focus on the light fixture in the ceiling in the young master's room. Though he must have seen it a million times, for some reason it looked all weird, like when you return to some place after a long holiday and have to readjust—

But wasn't that exactly what had happened? Even though he could only remember bits and pieces, here and there, of his strange trip back in time with the young master, he did remember that it had all seemed so impossibly real. Could it really have been just a dream all along?

And if that were the case, where exactly was he?

"Oh, hey, you're finally awake! Welcome back to the land of the living."

It was Kasanoda, who got up from where he had been absently reading a comic book to sit by Tetsuya's side. He was a sight for sore eyes—and sore everything else, as Tetsuya soon discovered when he tried unsuccessfully to sit up.

Kasanoda's smile quickly turned to concern. "Whoa, there. Don't stress yourself out."

"What am I doing in bed?" Tetsuya was surprised by his own voice, which sounded tired and creaky, like a long-unused faucet. "What am I doing in _your_ bed? What happened?"

"You must've come down with something from your walk home in the rain. You've been out cold with a fever all day." Kasanoda grinned sheepishly. "And you're always giving me a bad time about remembering an umbrella."

For some reason, the mention of the umbrella made Tetsuya's head hurt. He raised a hand to his head only to find a cold compress there already.

"How long . . ."

"Since last night. At least, that's what they tell me. I really wanted to be here to make sure you were all right, but Dad made me go to class. Said he'd have the guys keep me updated if you came out of it while I was away." At Tetsuya's blank look, he blinked. "You . . . you passed out, man. During _Hey!Hey!Hey!_, in the living room. You really don't remember?"

Tetsuya shook his head.

"I was having this dream," he said, as much to himself as the young master, "and you were there, Waka, and Morinozuka, and this singing cross-dresser. . . . And we were riding an elephant with a tanuki . . . Huh. That's funny."

When he trailed off, the vacant look on his face prompted the young master to ask: "What is?"

Tetsuya blinked up at him. "It feels like there's this crucial part of the whole thing that I just can't for the life of me remember. That's what's so weird. I mean, when I was having the dream, it seemed so _realistic_, like I wasn't dreaming at all, like we were really doing . . . well, whatever it was. It's just. . . ."

That was it—the terrible, sinking feeling in his stomach. The unplaceable something that made his chest ache and made him want to dig into his brain with his own hands like he'd just lost his house key in the mud. "I feel like there's something I wanted to tell you—something really important—but now I can't remember what it is."

"If it's that important, I'm sure it will come back to you."

Kasanoda said so easily enough, but for some reason, that only made it harder for Tetsuya.

"Oh, that reminds me. Hey, Tetsuya? Did you have another fight with your father or something?"

Then it hit him. That was it. That was what had happened in his dream. Except, that particular part had happened before the slip back in time, and all the misadventures that had followed. It all came rushing back then: how he had watched his father die, how the blood had stuck to his skin as he tried to wash it off in the rain. . . .

However realistic it was, the rest must have been a pleasant hallucination he invented to ease his conscience, but now he could run from reality no longer. He had to face what he'd done.

He sat up so fast all the blood rushed to his head. Kasanoda steadied him by his shoulder. How could he tell the young master what he had done? For the matter, what if Kasanoda already knew? Wasn't that why he had asked about the fight? He must have heard about the Sendou boss's death and figured it out for himself.

"I'm sorry, Waka—"

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Ever since that day you found me on the street, I've tried so hard to make something of myself that you could be proud of, something that would prove you were right to take me in, but I'm afraid I've let you down. No, no need to sugar-coat it. I've failed you this time. _Big_ time." The way Kasanoda was staring at him like he'd lost his mind wasn't helping any, but it had to be said. "I've betrayed the trust you've put in me, and for that I can't expect to ever be forgiven. But I'm ready to own up to what I did. I'm going to pay for it one way or another, and if you give me the chance, I'm going to try to make it up to you. For as long as I live."

"What are you talking about so seriously?" Kasanoda said, giving him a strange look. "Whatever happened between you two, it didn't sound on the phone like it was anything _that_ bad—"

"On the phone?"

"Yeah. Your dad called a little while back. I guess he was feeling bad for something that happened. He sounded really worried when he heard you'd come down with a fever, anyway. I think he was afraid you'd catch your death of cold because of him or something. I don't know what happened between you two, but whatever it was, you should call him back when you're feeling a little more up to it. Let him know you're okay, at least."

Then Tetsuya couldn't hold it back anymore. Either his body was more worn out than he realized, or everything that had happened in what he still found it hard to believe was just his dream caught up to him all at once. Either way, he couldn't stop the tears from pouring out if he tried. He lay back against the pillow and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, though he knew he couldn't keep the young master from noticing.

"Then it didn't happen," he choked out. "There's still time—I didn't do it—"

The young master looked more concerned than ever. "What are you talking about? Hey, calm down, Tetsuya. You don't want your fever to go up again."

He remembered the ice pack in the towel and pressed it to Tetsuya's forehead again. His touch was so gentle, Tetsuya couldn't help but ask, "Why are you so nice to me, Waka? It's not like I've done anything to deserve it."

"Of course you do."

"Yeah, right. . . ."

Kasanoda seemed taken aback. "Well, yeah, you do. Every day. You're always there when I've had a rough day and need someone to unload on, always smiling even when I'm acting like such a dick. . . ." He let out a breath, his eyes locked bashfully on his own knees. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, I love you, man."

Tetsuya wiped his cheek. "Really?"

"I-in a totally manly way, of course."

"Of course," Tetsuya chuckled. "Not that it wouldn't be alright if it were in a not-so-platonic way, too, though, right?"

Kasanoda just laughed. "Hey, don't be weird. You had me scared enough as it was there for a while, what with all that nonsense you were talking in your sleep—"

"I was?"

"Yeah. Something about Ise, I think," the young master said as though to himself. "I never knew you wanted to go so bad. If you want, I could arrange for the gang to go there over spring break. I'm sure at least Ibe would—"

"No, that's okay! I mean," Tetsuya revised when Kasanoda knitted his brows, "it's nice of you to offer and all, but I think I'd much rather stay here. In the twenty-first century."

"Uh . . . okay."

By the unsure, lopsided half-smile on his face, the young master really must have thought Tetsuya had lost it now. But Tetsuya didn't care.

"Waka?" one of Kasanoda's men's voices could be heard from the other side of the door. "You expecting company?"

"Yah, Bossa Nova-cchi, we're here!" came a voice Tetsuya vaguely recognized.

Then another: "Pardon the intrusion!"

They exchanged glances, the young master shooting him a guilty look. "Er, sorry in advance for this. I might've kinda-sorta mentioned something about you being sick at school, and, well . . ."

The door flew open before he could explain any further, and Suou Tamaki swooped in with the Hitachiin twins and Fujioka following close behind. Tetsuya hadn't seen much of them since that day he'd barged in on the young master's private meeting with the host club, but he knew enough for the sight of Fujioka to bring back a brief pang of jealousy. It was even worse now that he could see she was a girl. Like the proverbial scales had fallen from his eyes, he wondered why it hadn't been more obvious before.

Strange, then, how he was actually glad to see her face, like running into an old friend you never expected to see again.

"So, this is the patient? How you feeling, champ?" Suou asked Tetsuya, to which the louder of the twins added, "Sorry for barging in like this, but when he told us what happened, we just had to come pay our respects."

"You mean dug in your heels and had to be dragged here, don't you? And don't phrase it that way, he's not dying. You'd think for the so-called upper crust of society you'd have a little more tact."

The twins bristled under Fujioka's criticism (and Suou was adamant he hadn't dug anything in; it had been his idea to come in the first place), but she was all smiles for Tetsuya as she set a parcel down on the bedside table, completely oblivious to how Oharu-ish she sounded.

Or perhaps, he corrected himself, that was just her being plain old Haruhi-ish.

"I made some kimchi soup when I heard. It's not much, just something I whipped together in the home ec kitchen, but I'm told it's just about the best thing you can eat when you have a fever. I hope you don't mind."

"N-not at all." Tetsuya felt a tad flustered by the generosity. Maybe he was wise to view her as a rival after all. "Thanks. That was a really thoughtful thing for you to do. I mean, for someone you only met, like, once."

"Hey, any friend of Casanova's."

"And after all, it's got 'feel better' right in the name," said Suou. "Get it? Kimchi? _Kimochi-ii?_"

"Ugh! That's bad, even for you, milord," said Hikaru, and even Fujioka had to shake her head at her upperclassman.

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but at the same moment Kaoru sneezed into his sleeve. It was so strong and body-wracking, even Kasanoda and Tetsuya had to wince in empathy just hearing it.

"Uh-oh," said Hikaru. "Hope you're not coming down with anything. Got any more of that soup, Haruhi?"

"It's not that. . . ." But Kaoru did grab the back of his neck as a sudden chill ran down his spine. "This is gonna sound weird, but I just got the creepiest feeling ever, like I was in two places at once. Didn't you feel it, too, Hikaru?"

"Well, come to think of it. . . ."

—

And somewhere, in a star system far away, space aliens cursed the inadequacies of their technology, which for being so advanced was nevertheless no match for a couple of devious, not-so-handicapped twins, dressed for Edo Japan, and flying a hijacked yellow Vespa—which miraculously never seemed to run out of fuel.

完


End file.
